


500 Days of Weeing

by dandeliondrifts



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Desperation, Dom/Sub sometimes, M/M, Male Slash, Omorashi, Slash, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandeliondrifts/pseuds/dandeliondrifts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>500 ficlets about wetting, desperation, and all things pee. Lots of male/male. All stories are disconnected and noncontinuous, ranging around one thousand words.</p><p>Latest Summary: Jace really has to pee, but Levi, his superior, think it's unprofessional.</p><p>[Oh, yeah, and they're thieves trying to perform a robbery. So it's kind of a problem.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling Apart

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, even though I really need to finish Part Two for my Larry story, I've been procrastinating REALLY bad for that, and well, came up with this. I don't even know what this is. As the summary says, it's going to be random little ficlets about different characters, around 700-2000 words. Most of the stories are just me having fun, and some of them may be really stupid. I don't expect anyone to really read this and enjoy it - it's more for myself to just practice writing while enjoying my kink. However, if someone likes the ficlets, that's always a bonus!
> 
> I know 500 stories is a bit of a stretch, but like I said, most of these are going to be short and written quite quickly, so I should update often. (Unlike my Larry story *coughs sheepishly* I'm SO sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way longer than it should be, and way worse than it should be. Most of these ficlets are solely supposed to focus on kink, so when I realized I had gotten a bit carried away about the emotional aspect of the story, I cut it short rather abruptly. After all, these are supposed to focus on the desperation and wetting, and not too much on the aftermath. So hopefully nobody minds the rather unsatisfactory ending.

_He couldn't hold it anymore. His bladder was swollen and hard under the waistband of his pants, and his achingly full abdomen was no longer capable of holding back the voluminous liquid it was containing. With a small whimper, Sol rubbed his thighs together, legs crossed tightly. He was in the middle of his Chemistry exam, and the teacher had already denied him relief two times. He was too embarrassed and resigned to ask a third._

_"Oh...god.." Sol's bladder contracted hard, and a long leak streamed past. Sol squeezed himself hard. "Please, please, hold it..." he whispered to himself. As a fourteen-year old, it was quite **literally** the end of the world if he pissed himself in front of all of his classmates. Pressing his legs a little closer together, Sol jerked forward, a sudden spasm overtaking his tired bladder. A splash of pee hit the inside of his legs, warmly sliding down his skin. Tears brimmed Sol's eyes, dying to fall, much like the pee inside of his stomach._

_"Ohh.." Sol's hand shot up. He was leaking steadily, and the front of his pants were subtly darker._

_The teacher, Miss Higgins, shot him a stern look. "Again, Sol? What is it?"_

_"Bathroom," Sol begged. He was squirming feverishly, and was aware of the constant dampness in his boxers. "Please? I have to go so bad...I..."_

_Miss Higgins lowered her glasses. "I believe I've already answered that question two times."_

_"I know but..." his face was hot and flushed with perspiration. "I just really, **really** need a wee..." the words spilled out before he could register how embarrassing he sounded. He was suddenly painfully aware of the snickers filling the classroom, and his cheeks burned red with mortification. _

_Miss Higgins looked hesitant for a moment - and Sol's heart rose - but then she quickly shook her head. "I'm very sorry Sol, but I can't allow you to leave during a final exam. It's against the school board rules." With that, she turned briskly towards her desk, her heels clacking as she went._

_Sol was left trying in vain to hold back his flood. He squirmed, he shifted, he crossed his legs, he bounced, he gripped his dick with both hands. But eventually, spurt after spurt turned into leak after leak, and before Sol could comprehend what was happening, steady, disjointed hissing sounds were filling the room. Oh, god! He was actually pissing himself...Sol's eyes watered, and he bent forward, squeezing harder. It was no use. More pee gushed out, soaking his pants and spilling onto the ground underneath him._

_He was aware of the laughing eyes of all of his classmates. His face was bright red, and he was crying steadily now, unable to look at anyone as he pissed his pants like a literal five year old. After he was done, Miss Higgins actually made him sit in his wet pants until the exam ended, saying, "I still can't let you go. It's not allowed." Once the exam had been done, Miss Higgins had called his father to pick him up early or bring extra clothes._

_Now, Sol's father had never been the nicest man, and although he was never quite abusive or outright mean, he was very big on being a man and not showing weakness. Always stern and rarely showing love or affection, his father had been quite unnerved by Sol's accident. Instead of offering support, he had told Sol he was acting like a girl and that that was the definition of weak. Sol could still remember the words his father had said to him before he'd went to bed that night. "My son would never do something as weak as this. You may live in this house, and I may support you with money and shelter, but you are, and never will again be considered my son."_

_Those words still never truly left his brain. It wasn't just his father - as a fourteen-year old, wetting himself was exactly what his classmates needed to make him an official target. Sol was bullied endlessly for wetting himself, both physically and verbally. It was something that would never get away from him, even as he distanced himself from the event._

_Sol hadn't just wet himself that day. He'd also lost all of his confidence and self-respect._

"Sol!" Damien laughingly threw himself at his lean boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Sol's torso. "Hey, baby, how you doing?"

Sol pushed him away. "You sound like a hooker."

"What?" Damien pouted. "I'm just trying to greet my boyfriend lovingly."

Rolling his eyes, Sol gave Damien another shove before they began walking to Damien's car. Ever since that incident four years ago in the exam room, Sol had become hyper-aware of the activities of his bladder. He  _always_ went to the bathroom just in case, even if he didn't have to go, so an urge didn't come back to haunt him later on. He  _never_ drank a lot all at once, instead refusing to drink more than one glass of something at a time before he went to a bathroom. It was sort of an OCD, and he knew he should forget about it, but whenever he tried to just be a normal person about bodily functions, his father's words would come back to him.  _Weak. Girl._ Sol didn't want to be any of those things, so he just settled for taking a piss nearly every hour.

Damien squeezed his shoulder. "Ready for our date?"

Sol rubbed his forehead. "Not really."

"Aw, c'mon! It's only our, what, tenth date?" Damian grinned. "The fireworks are still buzzing."

" _Tenth._ " Sol made a noise of frustration. "And we still haven't had sex. I'm deprived."

Damien flashed him a smile. "You're the one who said you wanted to wait until you were eighteen."

"And I changed my mind," Sol practically growled.

"Not allowed," Damien sang. He patted Sol's shoulder. "It's okay. We can heavily make out afterwards."

Sol shook his head in exasperation, and Damien hooked his hand into Sol's. The two of them had been dating for almost a year now, and Sol didn't know what he would do without Damien. He himself had always had a sort of negative, boring outlook on life, but Damien was like energy and sunshine and flowers all wrapped in a happy little bundle. He loved Damian for that. For bringing some light into his life.

Sol had got into the habit of telling Damien everything. The only thing he hadn't mentioned was...well, the  _incident._ Sol didn't think he could tell anyone that after the reaction he gotten from his father and classmates. What if Damien felt the same way? It was very possible. 

After all, wetting yourself while fully conscious and awake, even at fourteen, was pretty abnormal.

"Where are we going again?" Damien asked.

"Dinner at the pizza place, and drinks afterwards." Sol bumped his hip to Damien's. "You need better memory."

Damien bumped his hip back. "And you need to smile more."

Sol frowned at the words. He followed Damien in to the car. What was  _that_  supposed to mean?

**.**

The words were soon forgotten as Sol cuddled up with Damien at the booth at Pizza Hut. The two of them had ordered a large pizza, half-cheese (for Sol) and half topped with pepperoni, pineapple and olives (for Damien), with two extra large drinks to go with them. Sol had finished drinking his coke ages ago, and he could feel the uncomfortable fullness forming in his bladder.

Sol, being hyper-aware of his bladder, would have left for a precautionary bathroom break a long while back. But right now, Damien was holding him tightly in his lap, chin nestled on his head. He was too embarrassed to excuse himself from the comfortable position.

"Mmm, god, that tasted good. I know it's just pizza, but pizza is just  _so_ good. No matter how many times you eat it, it'll always taste like heaven." Damian curled his arms tighter around Sol. "And the dessert! I have never tasted something that good in my life. Seriously.  _Never._ "

Sol arched a brow. "Oh, really?"

Damian stopped. Then grinned. "Except you." He leaned down and kissed him. "You're even better than Pizza hut desert."

"I'm thrilled," Sol said. He shifted his bum on Damien's lap, trying to find a comfortable position. He'd always had a small bladder, and because he always went to the bathroom about a million times a day, his bladder muscles couldn't endure holding for that long. He could feel the pulsing in his lower abdomen, and the faint ache starting to form.  _I have to get to the bathroom...just in case..._

"Hey, um, Damien?" he asked, blushing slightly.

"Yeaaah?"

"Can you get up for a second? I need the bathroom."

Damien whined. "Must you pee? Right this moment? I'm so comfortable!"

Sol's face flushed. "It's not that I  _must_ pee. I just want to." He nudged Damien. "Let me up."

Damien let out a resigned sigh, and moved so Sol could get out. "Fine. But be back quickly." He made a face. "As cheesy as it sounds, I can't stay away from you."

Sol didn't say anything. Standing up made him aware that his bladder was more full than he thought, and there was a cramped fullness in his lower stomach that brought back memories he had shunned away. Wanting nothing more than to relieve himself, Sol hurried to the bathroom doors, his bladder already loosening at the sight of the men's loo - before it cramped back up again when Sol tugged on the door and it didn't open.

Sol made something akin to a whimpering sound (although he would never in his life admit it) and he pressed his thighs together, squirming a little. "Please open," he whispered, the fear of wetting rushing back full force even though he was still in considerable control. Sol pushed and pulled helplessly at the door handle, but the door refused to open. It stayed shut; blocking Sol from the relief he desperately craved.

"Ohh, c'mon..." Sol bounced a little, glancing around. Maybe he could escape to someplace around the plaza and use the bathroom really quick... but he didn't want Damien to realize it was urgent...

"Sir," one of the waitresses said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Sol whirled around, and made an "oomph" noise as the tingles from the ground rushed to his full bladder; the quivering organ full and round with piss. He knew it pretty pathetic to feel full after one glass of coke, but the coke had been  _extra large,_ and Sol wasn't used to holding it. He always took precaution to go every hour, so his bladder muscles had weakened considerably over the years. To top it off, he'd never had the largest bladder to begin with.

"Sorry to startle you." She smiled. "I just wanted to let you know that the bathroom is actually out of order. We must have forgotten to put on the sign." She apologized to him about the inconvenience, before sticking a a paper with the words  _Out of Order_ onto the door. Sol just bit his lip and stared at the door for an agonizingly long time, his legs pressed tight together, his body hunched slightly forward.

It wasn't that he was dying to pee. Okay, yes, he was pretty damn full, and really  _wanted_  to pee... but he could hold it for longer. It was just... this seed of fear in his gut, exploding through his body and sending him wracking with shivers. Wetting himself at fourteen had been the worst moment of his life. The rest of his high school years had been an overload of bullying and teasing, and his father's already harsh nature had only gotten harsher. It was only after they finally moved to a new state that Sol managed to put his wetting behind him to an extent.

If he wet himself now, all of the bullying and teasing would come back. Sol was sure of it.

 _But you can't do anything about it now. Just wait. Just go back to Damien, sit with him for awhile, and then casually suggest that you're tired and want to go home. You can pee at home - just hold it for now, Sol. Don't be a baby. Don't be weak. Don't act like a girl._ Sol straightened his posture - then winced as his bladder squeezed agonizingly - before walking swiftly over to Damien.

Damien grinned when he came into view. "Hey, babe. I missed you."

"I was gone for five seconds," Sol huffed, sliding next to Damien. His bladder whimpered when it realized that it wasn't going to get the relief it craved, but Sol hushed it, and instead settled for crossing his legs tightly and smiling at Damien. "But I guess I can lie and say I missed you too. Just to make you feel better."

Damien groaned dramatically. "My poor heart!" he gasped out. "It can't take this abuse."

"Man up," Sol teased.

"I'm very manly," Damien said proudly. "I workout. Want to see pics?"

This time it was Sol's turn to groan dramatically. "You just want me to see your body."

Damien shrugged with a smile. "What can I say? I like to impress my favorite boy in the whole wide world."

Sol blushed a little at the compliment, and that was Damien's cue to swoop in for a kiss on the lips. Sol felt Damien's lips press against his own with a gentle, yet determined pressure, and his hands instinctively went around Damien's waist. However, just a second into the kiss, alarm bells went off:  _You need to pee. Your bladder is full. Can't you hear is sloshing and swishing inside your stomach?_ Sol hissed, and sucked in his stomach, tensing his thigh muscles.

Damien pulled apart immediately. Concern colored his face. "You okay?" he asked. "Did I like...hurt you somehow?"

He sounded so aggravatingly  _worried,_ and Sol wanted to blurt out, "I'm dying for a piss!" But his words were stuck in his throat, and he could only flush and look away, ignoring the fullness of his bladder in favor of saving him some embarrassment. "Sorry," he said in a rush. "I just...um..." He scrambled to think of an excuse. "I just think I ate too much. My stomach hurts a bit."

Damien's face creased. "Oh no." He reached his hand out to push Sol's hair back. "How bad is it?"

Instantly, Sol felt guilty for lying. But he swallowed hard, and said, "A little bad. Can we cut the date short to go home?" He knew it was horrible to lie to his boyfriend, but he was hoping Damien would take him home early because of his stomach ache. Then he could pee all he wanted without worrying about out of order signs or long line ups.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Damien's face was crumpled with worry. "You sure you're alright though? It's not an ulcer or anything, right? Want pain meds? I have Advil. I always bring Advil-"

"Damien." Sol smiled warmly. "Shut up, okay? I'm fine. It just hurts a bit because of all that pizza."

"Sure?" Damien pressed. "You've ate more than that and your stomach never hurt before. Are you sure it's not a virus? What if it's food poisoni-"

"It's  _not,_ " Sol practically snapped, his overfull bladder making him quickly irritable. He quickly clenched his legs back together, rocking a little. "I just want to rest, Geez. Is that too much to ask?" He knew he was being rude to Damien without any necessity, but his bladder was cramping and pulsing, his heart was pounding with fear, and the lie was making him sweat anxiously.

Damien looked highly offended. "I was just worried," he said. "You don't have to be a prick about it."

Sol swallowed, closing his eyes. His bladder sent urgent waves up his body, his poor abdomen containing what felt like an ocean. "I'm sorry," he said in a tired voice, eyes still closed, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. "I just...my stomach hurts, okay?" His voice broke a little - mostly because he was  _so_ scared about wetting himself. He knew Damien would dump him if that happened. Nobody wanted a baby for a boyfriend.

Damien must have sensed his pain, even if he thought it was from the stomachache, and leaned forward to tenderly kiss him on the cheek. "Sorry, babe. I know you're in pain. Let's take you home." Damien waved to the woman to pay for the bill, before wrapping his arms around Sol and pulling him close. He helped him up, and the moment Sol stood upright, his bladder contracted in agony.

Sol's eyes widened, and one hand automatically slipped down to give himself a hard squeeze. Sol practically trembled in Damien's arms, hand still burying in his crotch to stop a leak from happening.  _That was close..._ his heart squeezed with fear, the fear of wetting himself, the fear of being abandoned clinging to his mind. Luckily, Damien didn't notice him grabbing himself. His chin rested on Sol's head, and he assumed the shivering was from his stomachache. "C'mon," he said, gently pulling him along. "Let's go home, okay?"

Sol just nodded, still frozen with fear. He removed his hand once more, but was forced to rub his legs together desperately as he was pulled along by Damien. As they left the room, his bladder once more squeezed, as if asking,  _We're leaving without using a bathroom?_ Sol just told it to shut up, moaned softly, and let himself be dragged outside of the pizza place. The sky had darkened across the city, stripping the light blue to a mix of oranges and pinks.

The air was chillier than before, and Sol shivered, curling into Damien. Each step sent frantic jolts to his bladder, and before they even reached their car, Sol was clenching all of his muscles to hold everything back, the tops of his thighs grinding together as discretely as possible. He was attempting to crush his dick between his legs when Damien asked him, "You cold? You keep moving around."

"Yeah," Sol squeaked out; his face turned scarlet. "And...yeah. Cold."

Damien smiled. "I'd give you a jacket if I had one."

He knew Damien was trying to be sweet, but Sol couldn't talk sweet with him right now. His bladder felt like it was containing the entire contents of the pool in his backyard, pushing and prodding petulantly to be let out. Sol whimpered quietly, tensing his stomach and begging himself to hold it in.  _Don't pee...don't pee....don't think about peeing..._ Sol's bladder nudged a little, and Sol's legs tangled tighter together. It was horribly difficult to walk like that, but he hoped Damien chocked it up to the stomachache.

When they reached the car, Sol practically dove into the backseat. If he sat at the front, he would have had to stay discrete. The back gave him full privacy. The moment he was behind tinted windows, he squeezed himself harshly, squirming into the seat. His hand pressed against his crotch, pinching himself close tightly. "Ohhh..." he let out a soft moan. The front door opened, and Damien slid in, looking confused.

"Sol?"

"In the back," Sol practically groaned out.

"The back?" Damien started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. "How come?"

"Just tired," Sol lied. "I...my stomach hurts, so I thought if I wanted to lie down..."

"Oh."

The reply was curt; almost  _hurt._ But Sol couldn't care about whether Damien was hurt or not. All he could care about was his bladder; his full and bursting bladder. He leaned forward, biting his lip harshly as his other hand joined him in his lap, squeezing rhythmically. His abdomen sloshed and pulsed with desire; but Sol just strapped on his seat belt, squirming feverishly, and told it to calm down.

He didn't care  _what_ it took, or how much pain he was in. He was not going to wet himself.

His eyes anxiously darted to the window, where trees blurred past him. The ride to his house was about ten minutes from the pizza place - ten minutes. That wasn't that long. He could it hold it for ten minutes. His bladder thought otherwise, sending a desperate wave of agony through Sol's body. Sol whimpered, and hunched forward, both hands squeezing harshly through the fabric of his jeans. His hands were clammy and sweaty, and he clawed desperately at his crotch, trying to stop a flood from happening.

Damien must have heard the whimper. "Is it that bad?" He asked from the front, voice filled with concern.

Sol gasped softly as his bladder replied with an urgent yes, a spurt of pee spilling from his bladder and into the fabric of his boxers. The pee was warm and moist, and incredibly nice to let out, but it sent Sol into a deep pit of fear. Both his hands squeezed harder, and he shifted his bum on the seat, bending forward deeply.  _Don't wet yourself,_ he pleaded to his bladder. _You're going to lose everything if you do._ Sol writhed in his seat, pale and moaning with desperation.

Damien asked again, more urgently, "Sol? You okay? Do you want me to pull over?"

_Yes, please-fucking-yes._

An idea shot through Sol's brain, and he straightened up, still squeezing himself hard. "Um, can you actually pull over?" he managed in a tight, strained voice. "I don't feel good...kind of nauseous... " That wasn't a lie - he did feel sick from worry and fear. But this ploy would work perfectly - Sol could go to a bathroom to "throw up" while actually peeing. It was fool-proof, and the thought excited him.

Damien nodded, and said, "As soon as I see an exit, I'll pull over."

Although still incredibly full, Sol nearly groaned from relief. He couldn't wait to release his poor bladder into the toilet. The thought about whipping himself out and pissing like no tomorrow sent a leak streaming through his bladder, and Sol straightened up hurriedly, his hands buried in his lap, squeezing like there was no tomorrow.  _Oh god, hold it, hold it..._ He could feel tears stinging his eyes; one hand cradled his full bladder protectively, while the other tried to clench back his flood.

"Pull over," he whimpered desperately.

Damien started saying, "Oka-" but it was cut off with, "Oh, shit." The car rode for a moment, before coming to an abrupt stop.

Sol bent forward, eyes filling with tears. Why were they stopping? There was no rest stop here. Why had they stopped? Why wasn't the car moving, dammit?

"Babe," Damien said. "I'm really sorry about this, but...I think we just hit traffic. I know you don't feel well, um, but...there's a spare bag in the trunk if you feel like queasy and-"

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Sol's worst nightmare was coming true - hitting him straight in the gut of his abdomen. Sol arched his back as his bladder pounded, both hands crumpled against his crotch, shaking and trembling and writhing with need. He hitched his hips forward; before shifting back and forth, rocking at a feverish state to hold everything in.  _This can't be happening. This can't be happening. Please, it can't..._ It was happening, and the situation hit Sol hard.

He could feel the tears wetting his cheeks, in his haze of fear and desperation. Both of his hands were permanently glued to the crotch of his jeans; his legs moved rapidly, fanning in and out, and his hips rocked from side to side in an awkward attempt to hold everything in.

"You okay?" Damien called back. "Please, sweetie. Answer me."

_Answer him. Answer him, Sol._

Sol opened his mouth, but all he could choke out was a ragged sob. He was so scared; his whole body was not only trembling with desperation, but immense fear. He knew what would happen if he wet himself. Damien would walk away from him. He would look at him with disgust, call him a baby, and dump him for someone more mature and responsible. He would tell everyone at school how he'd pissed himself. The whole school would start bullying him again, and it would get around to his father and-

"No," Sol whimpered; his whole body was curled against the seat, and he moved to sit so his heel pressed against his crotch, trying to shove all of his pee into his bloated bladder.

"Are you okay?" Damien had an iron grip on the steering wheel. "It sounds like you're in too much pain. Babe, I'm taking you to the ER, okay?"

"No!" Sol gasped out. "No, please, don't." He couldn't go to the ER. He didn't want to prolong relief longer than he had to.

"But you sound like you're in so much pain," Damien babbled, feeling helpless up front. "I can hear your crying, and, please, baby, maybe there's something wrong."

 _Everything is wrong, but it's not medical._ Or maybe it was medical. Maybe there  _was_ something wrong with him. Other people never had these kinds of problems at seventeen, did they? Sol moaned loudly, body wrenching forward, hands jammed in his crotch. His boxers were wet and damp, encouraging the rest of his bladder to pour over them. Sol winced and squeezed and wriggled. He couldn't give in. He  _couldn't-_

Traffic freed. All at once, Damien was driving smoothly down the highway. "We're out of traffic," Damien breathed in relief. "Okay, hang on. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No!" Sol begged. "I just want to go home."

"But you sound like you're  _dying,_ " Damien proclaimed. "I don't want you to go home if it's something serious."

"Damien,  _please."_ Sol couldn't argue with him about this. He didn't have the energy or concentration to debate. His whole body was shaking in agony, his bladder feeling swollen and rounded with pee. After a moment of agonizing silence, Damien finally said, "Fine. Home. But if the Advil I give you doesn't work, I'm taking you the hospital."

Yes! "Thank you," Sol said in his ever-strained voice, bucking his hips forward once more. He forgot completely about pulling over for an exit, and as his house was only five minutes away now, Sol knew there was no point. He knew all he could do now was hold everything back in in one final test of willpower.

The five minutes ticked by in seemingly slow motion as Sol held it all in. His legs were wrapped around each other like a pretzel, and his thighs were squeezed roughly together, both hands wedged between them. He was rocking and squirming in a frantic, hectic pace, his whole body curled forward, shrunken into itself. Sol couldn't fathom why one glass of coke - no matter how large - could make him this desperate.

Until it hit him.

Before he'd left for Damien's care, he'd drunk half of his water bottle. He'd planned on going pee as soon as they reached the pizza place, but he'd gotten so distracted by Damien and the food that he'd forgotten - not that it would have mattered anyway, with the bathrooms being out of order. But it made suddenly made way more sense why he was so desperate, and Sol cursed himself silently, frantically, on why he was such an idiot.

 _You were supposed to be careful,_ Sol grinded his hands into his crotch harder; almost painfully harshly, as if he was punishing himself.  _How could you be so stupid and let this happen?_

The next few moments were of self-deprecation and utter, torturous desperation. All Sol wanted was sweet relief, but all he could was keep his bladder locked in with the waistband of his jeans, the belt strapped securely around his abdomen reminding him that he couldn't release a drop. Not that he'd listened. He'd released more than a few drops, and his boxers were feeling the wetness. Sol glanced down with a blurry, tearful gaze, thanking the gods that no wetness was showing on the jeans of his crotch.

"We're here," Damien said loudly, practically jumping out of the car.

Sol's head whipped up; relief swarmed his body in a furious rush of exhilaration. They were in his driveway - in the driveway that led to his quaint little house that had a quaint little bathroom. And then - all at once - horror settled deep in his stomach, along with his full bladder. Sol had planned to act composed when Damien came around to open his door, but all his composure left the window when he saw the lights on in his house.

His father was home.

His father was  _home._

He was supposed to have a late shift at work.

Everything crumpled around him; he broke into a tearful mess, hands squeezing, pale and shaking with desperation.

His father didn't know about Damien. He didn't even know Sol was gay (lest he kill Sol for being such an abomination). And now? He knew his father was going to stand there and interrogate him, and Sol wasn't sure he could hold in his pee to that point. He wasn't even sure he could survive the whole situation. Helpless and lost, his eyes blurred as his crying got louder, both his hands squeezing to hold in his painfully full bladder.

_I have to pee. I have to pee. I have to pee so bad - someone make it stop._

He hated himself at that moment. For being gay, for having a small bladder, for being so stupid as to let it get this bad.

And then there were arms around him - warm, strong arms wrapping around his back, and soft, hushed kisses against his forehead. "Oh, baby," he heard Damien say through a haze of desperation and fear. "Why didn't you say you needed to go so bad? Why didn't you tell me you needed to pee?" He knew Damien was clicking the pieces together - the lies about the stomachache, his reluctance to go the ER. But when Sol's eyes met his, there was no anger; just worry and encouragement.

"Dami-ien-" Sol was still shaking, but he felt a long leak stream into his pants. "I'm so - I'm so sorry - but I need to..." he curled deeply, whimpering as he forced his bladder to hold everything in.

"I know what you need now," Damien whispered softly. "C'mon. Let's get you inside and to the bathroom. You can do it."

Damien didn't understand. His  _father_ was home.

"I can't," Sol moaned. Another long stream of piss squeezed out from his tightly clenched hands, and to Sol's horror, the wetness was starting to show on his jeans. "Please, no," he begged. "Please, Damien, make it stop. I can't - I can't -"

"Stop crying, please," Damien whispered. "You're going to make yourself sick."

" _Stop it,_ " he pleaded again. "Stop it." He wasn't sure who he was talking about - Damien or his bladder. Both, maybe. There was a moment of tense silence; Sol groaned, clawing at his crotch, desperately trying to hold it all back. Then, in another moment, Damien's hand cupped his groin and squeezed. The sudden, stronger hand's grip stopped his trickling leaks short.

"There, babe. I stopped it." Damien's voice was filled with sadness.

"Don't let go," Sol pleaded. "I can't wet myself. I  _can't._ "

Damien was horrified at the way Sol begged to him; the frantic pleading in his eyes, the horrible fear on his face. Damien didn't care if Sol soaked his pants - he just wanted his boyfriend to be happy. But he knew, right now, that if Sol wet himself, it was going to be a long road to getting Sol to smile ever again. He wasn't sure why, but he knew his boyfriend, and he knew that Sol needed to get to a bathroom fast.

"C'mon," He lifted Sol up as carefully as he could out of the car, his one hand still awkwardly clenching Sol's dick. He felt embarrassed for doing such a thing to his boyfriend - forcing him to hold back his pee - but he knew that was what Sol wanted. Blowing out an air of breath, he tried to get Sol into the house.

"No!" Sol was crying. "We can't go in. My father's in there. He's going to kill me."

"What?" Damien felt his heart thrashing wildly against his chest. He knew Sol's father was kind of rude and cold toward his son, but now he was starting to worry to what extent. Sol looked so  _scared,_ his petite form trembling and shaking in Damien's arms. "It's okay," Damien whispered quietly into his ear. "I have a plan." Anything to comfort his boyfriend. "We'll just sneak into the backyard, and you can water the garden, okay?" He felt his voice go softer. "Your father won't know, and you can go in and introduce me as a friend, not a boyfriend."

Sol whimpered; his bladder contracted, and a bit of pee leaked out, spilling forward. He knew Damien could feel it, and he buried his head into Damien's shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." That was all he kept saying, and each  _I'm sorry_ hurt every piece that made up Damien's heart. He couldn't stand it. With a determined expression, Damien started forward for the backyard.

But before he could take a step, Sol's gasped out, "No," and froze.

Damien, for a moment, thought Sol was going to wet himself. But then he followed Sol's eyes and there stood Sol's father, dressed in a suit, standing on the driveway with an expression of absolute disgust.

"No, no, no." Sol's eyes squeezed shut, trying to block away the world around him. This couldn't be happening - it  _couldn't._

Damien was suddenly aware that he was holding onto Sol's dick in front of Sol's father, and in sudden embarrassment, his hand flew off. The lack of pressure tipped Sol over the edge; before Sol could get a chance to get his own hands back on his crotch, pee gushed out full force, soaking his boxers and seeping through his jeans. Sol's hands scrambled for his crotch, trying to hold it back again, but his weakened muscles were over containing pee - even with tightly clenched hands, the wetness pooled down Sol's jeans, dripping and cascading down his legs. Sol couldn't believe it.

Everything he had worked for went down the train. All of the precaution he had taken the last few years to never wet himself again had gone to waste - and now he was standing in his own piss, his father in front of him, his life about to spiral downwards once more.

"Sol, it's okay-" Damien started.

Sol couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear the comfort, because he  _knew_ Damien was going to break up with him. He stumbled backwards, breathing raggedly, crying so hard his lungs heaved for a break. "I'm sorry," he whimpered out. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Sol's father just stared at him, eyes hard and unforgiving. "You're gay," he finally snarled out. "I knew it. Get out of my house and never come back."

"No." Sol covered his face with his hands. "Please, dad, no-"

"Get out." Sol's father's voice was cold. "And take your faggot boyfriend with you." The words were cruelly said - the meaning of the words even crueler. Sol tried to apologize, but all he could hear was a loud ringing in his head, a loud chorus of voices saying,  _You're so stupid. You're so stupid. You're so stupid._ His whole body was vibrating, trembling from head to toe, and he was heaving as he cried.

"Hush, please," Damien's voice was thick with tears, even as he held them back. He tried to wrap his arms around Sol, but Sol jerked away.

"No!" Sol pleaded. "Go away. I'm gross and disgusting, I know that."

"No, Sol..." Damien's face was clouded with concern. He reached for his boyfriend, and this time, when he tried to jerk away, he forced him close, pressing their bodies together. "Shhhh... calm down," he said as calmly as he could. "I think you're having a panic attack. Just try to take a deep breath, okay?" He didn't know what was going on, or why Sol was acting this way, but he knew he loved his boyfriend. He knew that much.

He loved Sol.

"I love you," Damien said, peppering Sol's tear-streaked face with kisses. "I love you, please. Please don't say you're gross."

"But I  _am."_ Sol could hardly comprehend what was happening. He just felt so weak and exhausted and torn apart. His brain was foggy and strained with the psychological trauma of the bullying from when he was younger, and it swirled painfully in his gut, the fear making him sick. He was hardly aware of his wet jeans clinging to his legs, and was barely aware of the sweet, "I love you's" coming from Damien's mouth.

All he knew was that he stupid, and gross, and disgusting, and that he didn't have a father anymore.

"I'm sorry," Sol finally whimpered out into Damien's chest. Damien just held him tightly, the both of them standing there in place. The night was cool and quiet aside from a few chirping birds, the tree branches rustling and creaking. Sol's sobs quieted down, until he was resting sleepily on Damien's chest, eyes closing from exhaustion. "I'm sorry," he kept mumbling, even as he stilled. "So sorry for everything."

Damien didn't say anything. He just held his boyfriend until Sol's body stopped trembling. When the boy fell asleep on him, he gently lifted him into the car, buckling his seat belt up for him before driving to his own apartment. He was a year older, so he went to university and lived in residency. He had a single room - no roommates - so he knew they could be alone there.

The drive was painful for Damien. His whole body had clenched up, and nausea had crept up to his throat. He had never seen his boyfriend that way before. He'd never seen Sol lose himself like that, and he'd never seen Sol call himself those awful names. Was wetting himself really that big of a deal? Damien didn't think it was. He really didn't. Yeah, it was a bit unusual, but he knew he would never judge Sol because of a mere wetting.

That wasn't how relationships worked. Surely, Sol knew that?

And then Sol's father. Damien couldn't think about it anymore; his own eyes were burning with tears that he refused to let fall. He hated Sol's father at that moment.

Sol deserved he world, and his father sure as hell wasn't even a third of that.

When they arrived to Damien's apartment, Damien lifted the boy bridal style and carried him to his empty bed. Getting a pair of his old sweatpants, he carefully peeled down Sol's jeans and boxers. He knew Sol would be embarrassed about it later, but he didn't want the jeans to chafe Sol's legs, so he carefully replaced Sol's pants and boxers with his own pair. They were a bit loose around Sol's waist, but Damien could careless.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked Sol's hair back, staring at him with fondness and sadness. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Sol didn't reply, fast asleep. At least his breathing had evened out. Damien took a quick shower, before changing into a pair of pajamas and slipping into the bed next to Sol. He wrapped his arms around Sol, pulling him close, and letting the other snuggle into his chest. He held him tightly - protectively - trying to shield him from everything that could hurt him. "You're okay," he told him. "You'll be okay."

Sol would be okay. He had some issues that needed to be worked out, but Damien would help him through it.

Damien would help Sol realize what a wonderful person he was, and he would help Sol get over the crushing words from his father.

"I love you," Damien whispered into Sol's neck, kissing him softly on the cheek.

They would be okay.

He closed his eyes, and curled up close.

He would make sure of that.


	2. The Other Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Fast updating. :) Here's another one. It's not written that great, but I like the situation of the popular boy needing to pee, haha. It's a tad long, though, compared to the other one.

Pierce Clementine  _hated_ \- with deep passion –  Elliot Sauve.

Elliot was the most popular and most good-looking guy in school, with the ability to reel in a thousand girls just by making eye contact. He was on top of the social pyramid, highest ranked in academics, and incredibly, incredibly athletic. Pierce had no idea how Elliot managed to juggle his social, academic and athletic life so  _effortlessly,_ and he wasn’t really interested in finding out.

Pierce hated Elliot for a reason. It wasn’t because he was popular, or well-liked, or enviously handsome. It was because he was smug. A  _snob,_ you could say. He always wore these pressed shirts and fitted khakis, and if someone dared spill even a little bit on his precious clothes, he would freak out and call them immature. If someone disturbed him while he was doing work, he would snap, “Fuck off!” as if he was superior to them.

 _Egoistic, self-centered, belittling._ Pierce rattled off angry names as he walked down the hallway. The corridor was empty because it was a few hours after school. Pierce had just finished up basketball practice, and was heading home.  _Smug, preppy, arrogant._ And Pierce wasn’t hating on Elliot because he was jealous of him. It was far from that, actually, because if Pierce  _wanted_ to, he could easily overpower Elliot in popularity.

Pierce was attractive – he just didn’t show it on a daily basis by purposely leaving his top two buttons undone like Elliot did. Pierce was super athletic – he just chose to focus all of his energy into one sport instead of showing off in every one out there. Pierce was charming and hot and practically the dream guy for every girl – except he hated socializing, and mostly secluded himself to a group of close friends.

After all, Pierce had no interest in hearing about that “blonde girl’s tits” or “That wild party on Saturday!”

Nope. He was more mature than that.

Shoving his basketball in his locker and slamming the door shut, he was just about to spin in the opposite direction when he saw a lean, attractive figure at the end of the hallway.  _Speak of the devil,_ Pierce thought nastily as he spotted Elliot. Probably finishing up with the debate club or something.

However, before he could rant off more angry names and be on his merry way, Pierce noticed something. Elliot was not doing his normal I’m-a-hot-shot-swagger-chill walk down the hallway like he normally did. Instead, he was walking in quick, short steps, his thighs pressed tight together. As he got closer, Pierce noticed that Elliot’s forehead was sleek with perspiration, his face flushed a bright pink.

Pierce’s mouth parted. He had never seen Elliot look anything but…well,  _Elliot-like._

Elliot didn’t notice him. He was in too much of a hurry to get wherever he was supposed to get, Pierce supposed. Pierce watched as he strode past him and went straight for the bathrooms.  _Oh, wait, does he need to…._ The pieces clicked. The weird walking style suddenly made sense.

Elliot had to  _pee._

Pierce snickered to himself. For some reason, that was hilarious.

Pierce watched as Elliot rushed to the boy’s bathroom door, pushing at it violently. However, it didn’t open. Elliot made a noise of frustration, and to Pierce’s shock, one hand dropped down and squeezed hard at his crotch.

 _Woah,_ Pierce bit his lip.  _He must really have to go…_ Watching with some amusement and some dismay, Pierce observed as Elliot tried opening the door again, using all of his strength to try to get it to open. When it wouldn’t, Elliot let out a soft moan, and crossed his legs at the ankles. His blue eyes darted around the school, as if searching for a some sort of  _thing –_ anything – that he could pee on.

“Oh, stupid door!” Elliot tugged violently on the handle. He crossed his legs tighter, and bounced on the spot. “I need to piss, dammit!”

Pierce smirked.  _Karma’s a bitch, a’int she?_

“School bathrooms are locked after school,” Pierce said, just for the heck of it. Elliot jerked his head around, before squinting, like he was trying to place a name to a face. “You’re – um, Pierce? I think,” Elliot rushed out. “Captain of the basketball team?”

“Uh, yeah?” Pierce lifted a brow in surprise. He didn’t think Elliot would know his name.

“Oh, god, I have to pee  _so_ bad.” Elliot’s hand ran softly across his own stomach, before he winced. “Do you know if the other bathrooms are open?”

“Nope.” Pierce was much too happy. “None of the bathrooms are open.”

This was met with another moan, and Elliot’s hand dropped down to squeeze his dick. His legs were pressed tight together, and his body was half-bent at the waist. His blond hair was ruffled and out of place, his cheeks stained pink and his lip bit between his teeth. “Shit,” he said, to himself. “I can’t hold it for the bus ride home.”

Pierce was pretty sure Elliot wasn’t talking to him, but he decided he would bring up the karma point right about now. Cheerfully, he stated: “Karma sucks, eh?”

Elliot looked at him with such wide, confused eyes that Pierce  _almost_ felt guilty for enjoying his desperation. Key word: almost. Pierce wasn’t going to throw out all of the past years of smugness and belittling that he had come across because poor Elliot was  _confused._ “What?” Elliot said, voice tight, body curled into himself. He bounced quite desperately on the spot, eyes still flitting around. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Pierce said casually. “It’s just ironic that after all these years of snapping at people if they accidentally stained your clothes, you’re going to have a  _gigantic_ stain across your pants if you don’t get to a bathroom soon. What are you going to do then, yell at yourself?”

Elliot flinched at the harsh words, and for a moment, his bouncing stopped. Instead, he twisted forward a little more, bringing one knee up to his chest. He squirmed feverishly on the spot. “It’s not like that,” he said, quickly, snappily, his eyes flashing. “And of course I’m not going to pee myself,” he huffed out. “Who do you think I am? I’m  _Elliot Sau-“_

“Sauve. Yeah, I know. And this is exactly the karma I’m talking about.” Pierce was on a roll. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “You always act like other people are beneath you. I’ll be completely honest with you – I’d  _like_ to see you piss yourself right now.”

The words might have had more impact if Elliot wasn’t dying for a piss. Pierce watched as the boy mumbled out a “screw you” before pressing his thighs together and practically squatting, both hands clawing at his crotch. The waistband of his khaki pants seemed too tight around his hips, and Pierce could only imagine that it was digging quite painfully into Elliot’s bladder.

“Shit,” Elliot whimpered. He rubbed his legs together, the fabric of his pants rustling with the action. “I’m…fuck.” Both of his hands squeezed his dick practically in a rhythm, not stopping for more than a second between each squeeze. His legs were wound around each other, and the flush on his face had risen to a bright red. “Fuck,  _please,_ can you fucking please just-” Elliot let his hand leave his crotch for a moment, but then gasped and lurched forward, wedging it between his legs once more. “ _Shiiiiit,_ ” he moaned loudly.

Pierce glanced around to see if anyone else could hear. Unfortunately, no one was in the hallway. He kind of wanted people to witness this – to realize that Elliot wasn’t some god they had to be afraid of.

Finally, after hearing Elliot moan, “Please” for the fifth time, Pierce finally said: “Just go in the bushes near the school or something.” A shrug. “No big deal.”

Elliot’s face turned redder, if possible. “What?” he squeaked. “No way! Never. I’m too dignified to do something like that. That’s – that’s  _disgusting._ “

“So is pissing yourself,” Pierce informed his pleasantly.

“For the last  _time,_ I’m  _not_ going to  _piss myself!_ ” Elliot’s voice cracked on a watery sob, and suddenly he was choking on an oncoming of tears. His hands were permanently glued to his crotch, and he was shifting rapidly from foot to foot. Pierce watched in complete shock as tears filled Elliot’s eyes, threatening to spill over. Suddenly, the situation didn’t seem so amusing anymore.

“Um,” Pierce swallowed. “Are you okay?”

“No! No, fuck, I’m not  _fucking_ okay. I’m about to  _piss_ myself for god’s sake.” It should have sounded annoyed and snappish, but instead, it came out in a strangled, choking sob, his voice breaking on the hinges. “I’m not,” he seemed to gasp out, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “I’m not an asshole. Believe me.” Tears spilled down his cheeks, and Pierce’s heart clenched in a way he wished it wouldn’t. “I’m just – I’ve needed to pee since this morning, but I’m so fucking busy  _all_ the fucking time and I didn’t want to leave class cause I have to finish all my homework at school because of the stupid fucking  _party_ tonight and,” Elliot’s legs went tighter together, and a small, tiny glistening wet spot formed on the crotch of his pants. His hands dug into his crotch harder, clearly trying to stop a flood. “I just wanted to pee, but there was always  _something_ to do, and, and…”  The boy started to ramble about how he never had any time to himself – not even to take a piss – and how everyone expected so much of him and how he couldn’t keep up with the pressure (Clearly, another kind of pressure as well, because his pants were now half-soaked in piss).

Pierce could not manage a word. All of this was a sudden, reeling shock to him. He had always assumed that Elliot liked being the best in everything because it was another thing he could brag about. He didn’t consider that all of this must have been a hell lot of work for him to deal with. To look good every day, to be on every sport team, to be an A+ student, to have the busiest social life in the world – now that Pierce thought about it, how did Elliot even  _manage_? His life must be a whirlwind of stress.

“Fuck,” Elliot’s broken voice snapped Pierce back in reality. The boy was now on the ground, squeezing his crotch frantically at a last ditch attempt to hold everything in. Pierce watched as Elliot lifted his shirt a bit to adjust his pants, probably to relieve some pressure, and Pierce’s mouth dropped open.

Elliot was  _full._ There was a clear bump in his normally flat abdomen, protruding much too far to be healthy. And this was  _considering_  he had already leaked heavily into his pants, the wetness showing down the crotch of his khakis.

Suddenly, the situation was no longer enjoyable. Suddenly, every previous judgement Pierce had held about Elliot washed down the drain, leaving him feel lost and empathetic and completely guilty. It clicked now. The reason why Elliot snapped at anyone who tried to disturb him while he was working. Elliot didn’t have  _time_ to make conversation while he was doing math homework. His life was a carefully put together balancing act, and Pierce was watching it all tear apart into pieces.

“Oh, shit, I can’t-” Elliot let out a soft moan, his hands pressing into his crotch with such force that Pierce worried he would hurt himself. But despite that, Elliot was clearly fighting a losing battle. The wet patch on his crotch was growing bigger and bigger, quickly spreading down the leg of his pants and pooling around his shoes. Elliot was crying full out now, his cheeks flushed, his shoulders shaking as he cried. He mumbled random things like, “I’m sorry” and “I’m so screwed” and “This is going to go viral and  _I hate myself._ ” The words mingled with the soft hiss of Elliot’s piss, and despite Elliot’s squeezing and squirming, he was wetting himself.

Pee flooded the floor, and the hissing sound grew louder and more forceful. Pierce watched as Elliot’s shoulder slumped in resignation, and his crying grew louder. The small puddle around the floor grew double in size in frightening speed, and all Pierce could think was:  _Elliot Suave is actually wetting his pants like a four-year old._ The second thought was,  _And I’m not enjoying it at all like I’m supposed to._

For a long moment, Pierce said nothing, his mouth dry. He just stared as Elliot finished wetting himself, watched as Elliot’s sobs tapered off with the sound of his piss. Then all that was left was a boy in soaked khakis and a light blue button-up, blond hair mussed, eyes rimmed red, mouth pressed in a thin, quivering line.

There was a long moment of silence. Then:

“I suppose you enjoyed that,” Elliot finally sneered out, but he sounded exhausted, and the words held no weight behind them.

Pierce rolled his tongue over the bridge of his teeth. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

Elliot laughed weakly. “Oh, go ahead! Take a goddamn picture already and send it to everyone. I don’t fucking care,” he spat, but it was quite clear he did. Then he made a little choking sound. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Everyone’s going to see when I bus home today. There’s no way to hide it.”

Pierce swallowed hard. “You don’t have extra clothes?”

“No,” Elliot said in a tired voice. “I took my gym clothes home yesterday for a wash.”

“Can’t borrow from a friend?” Pierce suggested sincerely.

Elliot curled up a little. “I don’t want them to see me like this.”

Pierce wondered if he should go check in his locker to see if he had extra clothes, but was pretty sure the only thing he had was his basketball clothes, and those kind of stank, so he wasn’t so keen on giving them to Elliot. Anyway, it would be awkward giving his clothes to a boy he was supposed to hate with a passion. But that was the thing. He didn’t hate Elliot anymore. He  _couldn’t._ Today, he’d seen another side of the boy. He’d seen a side of a boy who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and was crumbling under it with no one realizing. He’d seen the side of Elliot that was scared and cared about what other people thought and got embarrassed. He’d seen a side of Elliot that wasn’t composed and cool and snobby.

He’d seen the side of Elliot when everything else was stripped away from him. His clothes. His status. His reputation.

And Pierce realized, despite everything he’d witnessed over the years, that he couldn’t just judge from what he saw on the outside. That maybe,  _just maybe_  he could give Elliot a chance.

“Hey, Elliot?” Pierce finally said, rolling his shoulders back and offering a smile.

A loud sniff. Then a tentative, “Yes?”

“Want a ride?”

And the grateful smile in Elliot’s eyes made giving him a chance worth it.


	3. An Uncomfortable Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haiden has a doctor's appointment, but he really has to pee, and the bathrooms are out of order.

It was 3:46.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a big deal. After all, his doctor appointment was scheduled for 3:45, so waiting another minute wasn’t typically the end of the world. However, Haiden had bigger problems: He had to  _pee._ And badly. His bladder was full and taut under the waistband of his sweatpants, and he could feel it pulsing softly against his abdomen. His legs were crossed unnaturally tight, and his hands were folded complacently in his lap, pressing down as subtly as possible on his crotch.

Damn it. He really had to pee. He hadn’t had a wee the whole day aside from the morning, and it was coming back to haunt him. All of the water and coffee he’d drunk through the meetings at work were now cramped inside his bladder, occupying every inch of his poor organ. The liquids pulsated harshly against the skin of his stomach, expanding and contracting with desire to get out. All Haiden could do was clamp his thighs tight together and hope he could hold it.

It had been a long day. Haiden scrubbed his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. and checked his watch. 3:48. Dammit. Of course the doctor was going to be late. The doctor was  _nearly_ always late. A little bored, Haiden glanced around the waiting room. There was an old couple at the back corner, and a mother with a child at the front. A few kids were poking at the glass fish tank, squealing and giggling as the fish raced out of view. Slowly, and agonizingly, Haiden’s eyes flitted to the bathrooms situated in the back, to the sign that was the cause of all of his problems.

_Out of Order._

The men’s bathroom was out of order, and the glaringly large sign made it clear to every guy who needed a piss.

Namely, of course, only him: Haiden Jesterfield.

Haiden moaned softly, and bent forward, his fingers tapping rapidly against his left thigh. His legs were squeezed tight together, and his wrist pushed down a little harder on his crotch, trying to yield direct pressure. His face was a flushed pink, and his breathing heightened as his bladder pounded with a couple jug-fulls worth of coffee. Twisting his legs tighter around each other – somewhat like a pretzel – Haiden’s distressed green eyes flew around the room.

His appointment was scheduled for 3:45. It was now 3:50.

Stupid doctors.

“Oh, c’mon, c’mon…” Haiden jiggled his left leg up and down, and his eyes once more traveled wistfully to the bathrooms. He wished he could tear down the  _Out of Order_ sign, kick open the door karate style, whip his cock out, and piss the Niagara falls into the urinal… “Ohh,” Haiden squeezed his crotch for a split second, before quickly removing his hand. He glanced around with a heavy blush, but no one had noticed.

Just then, Haiden spotted a nurse entering the waiting room. “Oh, please,” Haiden crossed his fingers. “Please, please please-“

“Jennifer Wilkins,” The nurse said pleasantly.

Haiden let out an audible groan as the woman with her child got up. Damn it! He just wanted to get his appointment over with as quickly as possible, run into his car, pull over at a gas station, and take a whiz! Was that so hard for the universe to accept? Haiden checked his watch. 3:55. Seriously. This was  _not_ fair. Haiden’s bladder gave a forceful nudge to warn him, but Haiden bit his lip and rubbed his thighs together.

It was okay. He would be okay. He could hold it. He was a man, right? Not a baby?

“Mmm…” Haiden whimpered quietly to himself. His bladder hurt so bad, and it was so achingly full in his lower stomach. If he brushed his hand over his shirt, he could feel the small bump protruding from his abdomen. For a split second, his eyes wandered to his car outside, and he wondered if he could quickly go stop somewhere, and come back. Haiden chewed on his lip and contemplated. The option was there in case…err…he was in danger-of-wetting mode, but right now, if he left, the chances of the nurse coming in to call him were pretty high…

 _Just hold it._ Haiden grimaced painfully, and shifted his bum on the plastic chair.  _You’re not five._

 _Besides_ , he comforted himself,  _the doctor will be here soon. Probably in five minutes or so._

But five minutes turned into ten, and ten grew into fifteen. By the time it was 4:30, Haiden was besides himself in desperation. Every other person had been called in by the nurse except him, and a few new people had entered in the waiting room. Haiden’s bladder was hard and full under his shirt, and his whole body trembled, thighs squeezing tight together in an effort to hold back his pee. His eyes were filled with confusion and stress, and he blinked back tears as his bladder tried to expand further, pressing petulantly to be let out. God, he was so full, and he needed to pee  _so_ much. Over the course of the past few minutes, he’d been giving himself little squeezes here and there, hoping no one would notice, but now his hand was practically constantly buried in his crotch. He’d just put a magazine over it to hopefully hide it from being obvious.

What the hell was going on? It was a full 45 minutes since his doctor appointment was due! Biting his lower lip, Haiden was seriously considering leaving real quick to take a leak before coming back. But what if the nurse came right then? He would have waited for nothing. Wondering if there was some mistake, Haiden decided he should probably ask the front counter to ensure his appointment was scheduled properly.

Except that meant he would have to stand up. Damn it. Tensing every muscle in his bladder, Haiden stood up very slowly, keeping his legs pressed together. His hand was buried deep in his crotch, squeezing hard. At least he had sweatpants on, allowing him to get a good grip. Shit, his bladder was full. Haiden bounced a little, aware that people could see him, but he was to the point where he couldn’t hold it without doing a half pee-pee dance.

“Um, excuse me,” he said in a flustered tone to the woman at the front counter. He was aware that he was bouncing on his feet, one hand squeezing his crotch, but he honestly needed to wee. “My appointment was supposed to b-be at, um, 3:45, and it’s way late and…” Haiden let out a soft moan, scissoring his legs together. A small spurt nearly escaped his bladder, but he managed to clamp it back the last minute. Crossing his legs and bending forward deeply, his asked through grit teeth, “Is there a problem?”

The woman looked bored. She quickly checked something on her computer. “Nope, you’re good,” she said, sounding rather annoyed. “It’s still scheduled, but you have to understand that we’re running late. Doctors have several patients to deal with, and they can’t always get you right on time.” She paused, and glanced at his desperate form. “I suppose you’ll just have to  _wait.”_

Haiden licked his lips. Suddenly, his bladder contracted, and a little bit of pee rolled down the inside of his leg. No one could see it, but Haiden could feel it, warm and moist against his skin. His eyes widened in panic, and he squeezed his crotch harder, pleading, “Do you know when, about? Another ten minutes? Because I really have to pee, and I thought I’d go out real quick and come ba-“

“You could be called down any moment,” the woman said sternly. “I would suggest you wait it out.”

_But I can’t._

Haiden didn’t say that, of course. He just nodded, legs crossed tightly, his other hand joining him at the crotch. However, just as he was about to return to his seat, a nurse called out in a pretty voice, “Haiden? Haiden Jesterfield?”

Haiden whirled around. Yes! Yes! Thank-fucking-god. “That’s me!” he nearly cried. Giving his crotch one last hard squeeze, he removed his hands and followed the nurse stiffly down the hallway to where his doctor appointment was to be held. His thighs ground against each other, and when he was behind the nurse and out of her out of sight, he took the opportunity to hurriedly stick his hand down the waistband of his sweatpants to give himself a good squeeze.

He could do this. He could hold it out, and despite how swollen and full his bladder felt, he would keep holding it all in until he was free.

The nurse led him into a small room, and closed the door, just before saying, “The doctor will be in in a few moments.” The moment the door closed, Haiden doubled over, and squeezed himself hard. Finally, some privacy. Ohh, fuck! He was literally bursting. He whimpered, knees pressed together, hands squeezing repeatedly against his damp crotch. His hips shifted and rocked on the chair, and he let out a loud moan, squeezing harder. His pee was on the brink of spilling out and soaking in his pants, and it was taking every ounce of Haiden’s willpower to hold it all back. His legs were locked together, and he closed his eyes, biting his lip, trying to contain the mass amounts of liquid in his bladder.

Then the door opened. Haiden’s hands flew out of his crotch, and his back shot up. A spurt of pee slipped out at the surprise, and Haiden discretely grounded the tops of his thighs against each other to help hold anymore back.

The doctor that walked in, much to Haiden’s dismay, was young and highly attractive.  _Cute smile, stunning blue eyes, nice-looking hair…_ Haiden rolled his tongue over the bridge of his teeth. He was going to look like a total idiot in front of this hot doctor because he needed to pee so bad.

“Hi there,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Every. I know I’m not your regular doctor, but she called in sick, so I’ll be filling in for her today.”

“Okay.” Haiden smiled painfully. He was aware that his bladder jutted out a little, and he self-consciously put his hand in front of it.

“So,” Dr. Every clicked a few things on his computer. “You’re here to get your TB test checked?”

“Yeah.” Haiden bit back a moan, and crossed his legs tightly. He was aware that he was shifting on the seat quite a bit, his bladder full to the brim, his body doing everything possible to contain his piss without being glaringly obvious about it. “Um, it’s for volunteering at the hospital. They need to know I don’t have TB and I – Ahh!” A small spurt escaped despite his crossed legs, and Haiden bent forward, discretely pressing one hand to his crotch.

Dr. Every was staring at him in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Alright!” Haiden said breathlessly. “Just fine.”

“Are you…sure?”

Damn those blue eyes. Haiden made a little noise, and nodded feverishly. “I’m super good!” He rolled his sleeve up quickly. “Can you check now?” He didn’t mean to sound rude or impatient, but he was literally on the verge of peeing himself. Dr. Every nodded with a smile, and gently ran his thumb over the part of his arm where the needle was. Haiden shivered under his touch, and tried to stop the rapid trembling of his body.

“No need to be so tense,” Dr. Every said softly. “You’re fine. It’s negative.”

Haiden breathed a sigh of relief, even as he tensed his bladder muscles. “Oh! That’s good.” He started to get up, thighs clamped tight together. “Can I leave now?”

“Not yet,” Dr. Every chuckled. “Sit down for a moment. What’s the rush?”

_I’m about to pee myself over your chair, sir._

Haiden just forced a smile, ignored his bladder, held his flood back, and sat back down. “Yes?”

“You’re aware you need to come in again to have the second arm tested?” Dr. Every asked.

Haiden barely heard the words. Just then, his bladder had contracted harshly, and a barely audible hissing sound filled the room as pee gushed out. Haiden’s hands flew to his crotch, and he groaned loudly, both hands buried deep. “Ohh shit,” he mumbled, squeezing tightly. He couldn’t dare let go. He managed to clamp back the flow though, and sighed in relief. However, his bladder was heavy and full in his abdomen, and he knew he couldn’t hold it much longer.

With his back, legs, and bum literally shaking from the effort of holding it in for even a second longer, Haiden looked up meekly, with a flushed, embarrassed expression. Dr. Every just gaped at him, lips parted slightly, eyes wide at the sudden action before him.

“Um,” Dr. Every finally cleared his throat. “There’s a bathroom in the waiting room.”

Haiden squeezed harder. Another spurt came out, and he noticed a small wet patch on the front of his sweatpants. “It’s out of order,” Haiden whimpered out. “I’m so sorry, but I really have to pee, and I really can’t hold it and -” more hissing filled the room, and Haiden moaned, squeezing harshly through the fabric of his sweatpants. Once again, he cut off the flow, but his face was red from panic, and his bladder was  _so full it had reached its limit. “_ Sir,” he said desperately. “Can I just leave? I’m sorry, but I really have to-“

Haiden jumped up to leave, but had to stop and bend forward, legs snapping together. His hands were buried deep in his crotch, and his eyes were tearing up. “I can’t…” he rubbed his thighs together, clamping them tightly against each other, trying to hold everything in. “I can’t move,” he whispered softly to himself.

Dr. Every must have heard. “If you need to go that bad…” the doctor sighed, before shaking his head with an amused smile and pulling out an empty waist bin from his under his desk. “You could go in this.”

Haiden’s eyes widened. His bladder pushed hard at the thought of releasing, and Haiden pressed harder to hold back. “Yes, ohh, please.” He knew he would die of embarrassment over the situation later, but right now, he needed a leak, and he needed it fast. “Can I just go here?” Haiden was literally hopping from foot to foot. The front of his sweatpants were soaked, and even as he squeezed, he could feel the dampness of his boxers against his hand.

“Go ahead,” Dr. Every gestured, coughing slightly. “We like our patients to be comfortable.”

“Ohh, thank you, thank you!” Haiden rushed out. He quickly took the waist bin from Dr. Every and set it down on the ground. In hindsight, he probably should have positioned himself so he was facing away from Dr. Every, but at the moment, he was just so  _desperate_ and  _full_ that he couldn’t bear prolonging relief a second longer. Settling in front of the can, Haiden rushed to undo the knot of his sweatpants, squeezing and dancing and shifting as another long spurt escaped. “C’mon, c’mon…” he mumbled. Finally, he undid it. Lifting his shirt a little, and pulling his sweatpants down enough so he could pull out his cock, he situated himself.

His pee was literally on the brink of exploding.

“Wait!” Dr. Every said.

Haiden made a loud moaning noise, whimpering and locking his legs back together. “What?” he pleaded.

“Your bladder,” Dr. Every sounded shocked. “Is…I mean, you can _see_  how full it is.”

Haiden nodded frantically. “I’m aware! Please, can I pee now?” He was shaking, his entire body vibrating in an effort to hold in his pee for just a bit longer.

“It’s not healthy…” Dr. Every said.

“Sir! Please. I’m going to  _pee_ myself.”

Dr. Every frowned, and paused for a long moment in which Haiden squeezed and bounced, but finally nodded. “Alright. Go ahead.”

That was the only permission he needed. Pee gushed out full force, spraying against the can and filling it up at rapid speed. Haiden cried out slightly at the unimaginable relief, his sore bladder slowly deflating as pee rushed out as quickly as possible. The relief was nearly dizzying, and Haiden stumbled a little, trying to make sure he aimed properly. He’d die of shame if he got pee in Dr. Every’s office. After nearly three full minutes, his bladder was finally empty, and Haiden tucked himself back in, pulling up his half-on sweatpants back to his waist.

The embarrassment of the situation only hit him a few seconds after he was finished. “Oh, god,” he covered his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

Dr. Every smiled softly. “It’s okay. We all have to go sometimes.”

“Not like this.” Haiden bit his lip. “I mean, I’m twenty. I’m supposed to be able to hold it.”

“Well, technically, yes,” Dr. Every said with a serious expression. “But you really shouldn’t be holding it so much. It’s not particularly healthy, and if you do it on a daily basis, it can lead to serious consequences.”

Haiden laughed weakly. “Trust me: this is  _definitely_ a one time thing.”

Dr. Every was still frowning. “You need to be more careful.”

Haiden felt his face flush a little. Great. He was being chastised like a little kid. “Yeah. Sorry.” Haiden stood awkwardly. “I’ll be careful.”

After another long moment of silence, Dr. Every cleared his throat, and turned around to schedule his next TB appointment for the second arm. While he did so, Haiden replayed the events in his head again and again, and each time, his face turned red from mortification. He could not believe that had just happened. The waist bin full of his pee just served as a reminder of what he had done.

“Oh, fuck,” he said to himself. “I’m an idiot.”

Dr. Every ignored him, and clicked a few things on his computer. Finally, he turned around, and smiled. “Alright! It’s settled. Your next appointment is on May 28th, 4:00 PM. Does that sound alright with you?”

“It’s good,” Haiden said quickly. “Can I leave now?” He wanted to get out of there and bury himself under his blankets to mourn over his embarrassment.

“Sure.” Dr. Every stood up. “Have a nice day, Mr. Jesterfield.”

“I will! You too!” Haiden rushed out. He ran to open the door, and nearly had it closed behind him, when he heard Dr. Every call out, “And don’t worry! I’ll tell Dr. Jennings to keep an extra waist bin in the office just in case you have any more problems!”

Haiden’s blush darkened, and he flew out of the doctors’ and into his car.

He was  _so_ moving to another city.


	4. Misunderstandings and Beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So let me get this straight," Colton said in a rather hoarse voice. "I'm supposed to hold in my piss until 9:00 PM, tonight?" He swallowed at Duke. "Are you sure this is even possible?"
> 
> Duke leaned against the door frame of the bedroom, all lean and muscle and strong. He had a pair of shades covering his icy blue eyes, and a plaid shirt skillfully showed off his hours of working out at the gym. "Anything's possible, babe," he said, slow and sinister. "As long as you hold it all in, there really shouldn't be a problem, should there?"
> 
> Or, in which Duke and Colton try out this thing where Duke controls Colton's bladder and refuses to let him pee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about how I feel about this one. For some reason, all of my stories start off kinky, and end with sobby-tearish drama. Anyway, I know it's been awhile, but I write this story whenever inspiration strikes, soo... haha, here it is. Thanks for everyone who has commented thus far - I really appreciate it! (PS, I apologize for my very lame sense of humor)

Duke was in charge today.

Colton was very aware of this fact as he strapped on a tight belt across his even tighter jeans. The belt looped across his slim waist, locking his bladder snugly into his abdomen. It was 9:00 AM, Colton and Duke were heading to the mall, and Colton had been refused to be allowed his morning pee. This was a very new thing for Colton, and although his bladder wasn't full, he already felt a little uncomfortable

"So let me get this straight," Colton said in a rather hoarse voice. "I'm supposed to hold in my piss until 9:00 PM, tonight?" He swallowed at Duke. "Are you sure this is even possible?"

Duke leaned against the door frame of the bedroom, all lean and muscle and strong. He had a pair of shades covering his icy blue eyes, and a plaid shirt skillfully showed off his hours of working out at the gym. His lips coveted a smirk instead of a warm smile. "Anything's possible, babe," he said, slow and sinister. "As long as you hold it  _all_ in, there really shouldn't be a problem, should there?"

Colton gulped at the fire in Duke's eyes, and the task that was put forth beneath him, but at the same time, a spark of arousal shot up his petite frame. Duke and Colton had been dating for almost a year now, but they'd never explored something so... _unusually kinky._ Colton wasn't used to Duke expressing dominance, but the mere words spoken now was sending shivers of excitement up and down his slim body.

"Right," Colton nodded after a brief moment. "You're right. It's possible."

"Of course I'm right. Now c'mon, grab your jacket, and let's go."

Duke turned on his heel to head downstairs, and Colton grabbed his jacket from his bed. As he tugged it on, he glanced for a moment at the bathroom door, where he could see the open toilet. His bladder gave a little nudge - a rather forceful nudge - and he winced.  _Not today,_ he patted his abdomen softly.  _You're going have to hold it all in today._

With that final measure of reassurance to his bladder, he turned and followed Duke down the stairs, ready to see how the events of the day would unfold.

**.**

"Drink."

Colton jolted as he felt a straw feebly push against his lips. He looked up with wide eyes to see Duke's smirk, and the large slushy he was holding in his hand. For a moment, Colton just stared at him, wanting to protest. He had already drunk orange juice with his breakfast in the morning, and that alone had made his bladder nice and full. He could  _hold it,_ of course, but if he kept drinking at this pace...

"Do I have to?" he asked weakly.

Duke leaned forward slightly, pressing the straw a little more forcefully. "Of course. Remember, I'm in charge today?"

The words sent a buzz racing through Colton's body. They were seated in the cafeteria of the mall, already having shopped a considerable amount. The mall was milling with people, the floors crowded and scattered with clusters of customers. Colton could only eye them with envy, knowing they probably all had a nice hard morning pee before they left.

"Drink up," Duke said again when Colton didn't take a sip.

Colton ripped his eyes away from the crowd of people, turning back to his extra large drink. Swallowing, he took a careful breath before he leaned down and took a long, plentiful sip. Duke nodded in approval, and he took another sip, sucking gently on the straw. Each gulp of slushy sent little tremors to his full bladder, reminding him cleverly that  _he should not be drinking more._

He ignored the warnings and did what Duke wanted him to do. Drink.

Meanwhile, Duke was watching Colton with nearly every kind of lust possible. His boyfriend was so adorable. He was sitting in his seat looking extremely uncomfortable, sipping timidly on the largest slushy Duke had found in the mall. Colton's cheeks were stained pink, and his eyelashes fluttered as he downed the liquid.  _Cute,_ Duke thought with a little snicker.  _But you'll be even cuter when you're bobbing up and down with your hands shoved in your crotch._

"Mmm..." Colton pulled the straw away, shaking the empty container. "It's done. There. Happy?"

"Very," Duke said, keeping his eyes on Colton as they stood up.

The moment Colton stood up, he clenched his legs together, briefly hissing through his teeth at the sudden, aggravating fullness in his lower stomach. God, he hadn't expected it to get so bad so quickly. He could feel the slushy he'd drunk sloshing in his tummy, reminding him that more liquid was to be expected in his poor bladder. Duke may have been happy, but at the moment, Colton was anything but (aside from the secret gleeful arousal he was feeling from the situation, but that was besides the point).

Duke smirked at Colton's precious expression, taking his hand and giving it a soft squeeze. "C'mon, baby doll," he whispered into the curve of Colton's ear, his breath warm against Colton's neck. "Let's walk around, shall we? And don't hesitate to tell me if you get thirsty. I'll  _gladly_ pay for whatever drink you want."

Colton's throat tightened at the words, and he pressed his thighs closer together. He curled into Duke's one-armed hug, following him as they walked down the busy corridors of the mall. Each step jolted a tingle up his long legs and into the quivering, overfull organ inside his abdomen. It was so full and rounded with piss that Colton worriedly gnawed on his lower lip. How in the world was he supposed to last the whole day?

He briefly tensed his thighs, rubbing his legs together. To make matters worse, his tight jeans were cutting into the tender swell of his bladder, sending urgent waves up and down his lower body. He squirmed miserably in Duke's arms, his nails digging into his boyfriend's bicep. "I need to pee," he whined out in a moment of urgent need. "Can I go pee, please?" He nuzzled Duke's cheek. "Please?"

Duke felt warmth pool in his abdomen at the endearing beg. "No," he said with an evil smile. "I think you can wait a lot longer than this."

Colton frowned, rolling his tongue over the bridge of his teeth. His legs were now constantly rubbing against each other, the scissoring movement helping to keep his urge down. His bladder felt taut and full against the waistband of his jeans, pushing petulantly to deflate. However, he knew he had a long way until relief, and the thought of holding for so long send a quiet but pressing cramp in his stomach. "Duke," Colton whimpered. "Can I pee?"

Duke glanced at him with a fond smile. "No. But I definitely think you look flushed. Thirsty?"

"Not thirsty," Colton shook his head rapidly. "My face is flushed because I need to pee bad."

"I don't really think that's it." Duke innocently checked his watch. "I mean, it's only noon. Surely, you're not giving up that early in the game?"

"Gotta pee," Colton said again.

"Sure, sweetheart, but you're really looking hot there. I think you need to drink more than you need to piss."

Colton wanted nothing more than to deny the statement, but he knew Duke was giving him an indirect order. He whined a little, and paused where he stood, crossing his legs together briefly. His thighs pressed tight together, and he breathed shakily in relief. That felt good. Yes, that felt good. If he could just keep his legs crossed tight like this, he could hold on forever. "Um, I'll have a...a..." his eyes darted around the large, bustling mall. He spotted a small vending machine at the corner. "Vending machine. I'll get water."

"Water?" Duke's hand snaked around his waist, his palm teasingly resting on Colton's full bladder. "That all? Not interested in some nice, yellow  _lemonade_?"

Colton gasped quietly when he felt Duke's fingers gently apply pressure to the tender ball of golden urine being contained behind his belt and jeans. He whimpered, squeezing his long legs tighter together, tangling them around each other like he was playing a game of Twister. "Stop," he whispered, his thighs pressing as tight as humanely possible.

"Stop?" Duke said in a low tone. "Are you ordering me around?"

Colton glanced at him, his green eyes widening for a moment. He felt his neck and cheeks flush. "Sorry," he mumbled. Sometimes, he forgot he was playing the game.

Duke's hand stayed hovering above Colton's abdomen. "Not okay. I think I need to punish you."

"No, please," Colton shook his head rapidly. He bent forward slightly, his bladder pulsing, a smooth, rounded curve stretching across the skin of his stomach. Duke's fingers lingered over his bladder area, teasingly running back and forth, threatening to press down.

"You don't think I should punish you?" Duke asked lightly. "Even after you ordered me to stop?"

"I wasn't ordering," Colton said meekly. "It was just instinct."

"Instinct," Duke said in a soft, dangerous tone. "Instinct or not, I think I'm going to have to punish you." There was a brief, tense moment where Duke's hand stilled, and Colton winced, his bladder pulsing heavily in his gut. Then, in another moment, the palm of Duke's hand crushed the swell of Colton's bladder, pressing hard against it. Colton gasped, sucking in his stomach, his legs snapping together. One hand shot down, clawing at the crotch of his jeans. He gave himself a hard squeeze, whimpering.

"Please stop?" He moaned. "Please?"

"Holding yourself already?" Duke removed his hand, shaking his head in admonishment. "So early in the game, too."

God, Duke was totally having the time of his life with this. Colton took a shaky, heavy breath, carefully taking his hand away from the crotch of his jeans. His boxers were still dry, but his bladder spasmed from the unplanned pressure, tugging more urgently to be released. "I need to pee," he whispered to Duke once more, hoping that if he said it enough, Duke would get annoyed and lead him to the bathroom.

But Duke wasn't finding the little begs annoying. In fact, he was finding them incredibly hot. Each "I need to pee" send waves of electricity shooting through his body. It also gave him a chance to assert his dominance once more, announcing, "Not yet. We have to get you a drink first, remember?"

"Pee first though?" Colton asked, trying to pout. Maybe the pout would work.

Duke smirked at the pout. "Cute." He turned the other way, dragging Colton with him. "Let's see you keep that pout on after you drink one water bottle and lemonade."

"Both?" Colton squeaked out. His bladder whimpered from the strain of what currently was, and what was to come. "I thought - I thought...just one..."

"You thought nothing," Duke said firmly. "C'mon, babe. Let's stop wasting time."

Easy for him to say. Colton was bouncing on his toes when they reached the vending machine, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. His bladder felt cramped and trapped behind his tight jeans, and the sight of the array of different liquids only made it cramp up tighter. Colton mewled, rubbing his hands at the sides of his waist, resisting the ever-prominent urge to bury them in his crotch.

By the time Duke had punched in the number, and the two bottles had rolled out, Colton was twisting and hitching his hips back and forth, his legs permanently jammed together, his bladder throbbing behind his pants. "I can't drink both," he pleaded quietly when Duke handed him the water. Duke just shrugged, letting out a curt, "We'll see," before dragging Colton toward the bookstore.

_We'll see? What's that supposed to mean?_ He didn't say that, though, not wanting to face the wrath of Duke's hand against his bladder again. Instead, he settled for gently bobbing up and down, uncapping the cool water bottle. The condensation from the bottle felt slippery and wet in the palms of his hand, sending sharp, uncomfortable waves of pain to his bladder. It was like his bladder knew more liquid was coming, and was trying to tell Colton that it was too full to take anymore.

 "Just a little more," Colton promised his bladder quietly. He tipped his head back and let a long stream of water drizzle into his mouth. The sound of water whizzing into his mouth made him clamp his legs together once more as he walked stiffly, worriedly, behind Duke. His bladder felt swollen with his liquids, the organ pushing intently to be led to a bathroom. Colton made a soft sound, one hand gripped on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

By the time they reached the bookstore, the water bottle was done, and Colton was twisting around feverishly. He tried to stand still as he flipped through random books, but he was unable to keep his hips from swaying back and forth, his shoes turned inwards. One leg moved up, then went back down, before he moved his other leg up. He shifted rapidly from foot to foot, biting his lip, and eyeing his cellphone time.

It was only two.

He was supposed to last until nine tonight.

"This isn't possible," he said to himself in a huff, pressing his pretty legs together. Any movement he made jostled his poor bladder, sending a wave of pain up his lower body. He hitched his hips forward - then bent double, knees knocking together.

"What's not possible?" The briefest touch of fingers slid across his nape, and Colton looked up to see Duke smiling at him, holding a stack of books in his left arm. Duke was an avid reader, so Colton wasn't surprised by the five books perched in Duke's arms. Colton groaned miserably, tugging on Duke's free arm. "I can't hold it until nine," he told him. "It's not possible. I need to pee." He bounced softly on his shoes.

Duke eyed his desperate form appreciatively. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to figure out a way to hold it." His lips twitched. "Or you could just wet your pants. Always an option."

The option of wetting himself - releasing all the fluids trapped within his bladder - made Colton squirm noticeably, his legs rubbing against one another. His jeans cut into the swollen ball that was his bladder, making him wince noticeably. "You know I can't do that." He moaned softly. "Please, Duke..." he said in vain. "I really need to pee, and..." his eyes darted around. "It's only  _two._ "

Duke glanced at his watch. "Oh. Yeah. Geez, the time really flies, doesn't it?"

" _Flies_?" Colton said in a throaty voice. "It's practically going backwards, that's how slow it's going." He moved his hand downwards, his left wrist pressing hard and discretely against his crotch. Ohhh, yeah, that hit the spot. He pushed his wrist harder, unaware of Duke smirking lightly, eyes transfixed on Colton's crotch.

"Sweetheart," Duke said, gently tugging at his arm. "You really shouldn't be acting so inappropriate."

Colton whined when his wrist was moved away, the lack of pressure sending a wave of pulsing need back into his bladder. His legs twisted, his hips twisted, his waist twisted - he was pretty much a twisty twister in a pretty package of twisting around - although he wasn't even sure what that meant. All he knew was that he had to pee  _now,_ his bladder was beyond full, and his evil boyfriend was denying him the relief he so desperately craved.

"Hafta pee," Colton mumbled, hopping from foot to foot. "Hafta pee so bad."

"I think we've established that." Duke said smoothly. "Let's move along, shall we?" He was all sleek and smooth and composed, a direct contrast of Colton's rapid babbling, feverish twisting, and red face. He dragged his desperate boyfriend toward the counter to pay.

"Hi! How may I help you?" the woman at the counter said.

"All of these books," Duke smiled. He pushed the books forward.

"Sure." The woman smiled and started ringing up the purchases. Beside Duke, Colton whimpered and moved around, his lips set in a firm grimace. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his hair sticking damply to his skin. "Hafta pee," he whispered under his breath, crossing his legs and bending forward deeply. That was when he felt it - the comforting pressure of the edge of the cashier counter. Pressing up against it, Colton sighed in relief, squirming at it. That felt good. That  _definitely_ felt good.

The woman stared at him. "Excuse me," she said to Duke. "Is your...friend okay?"

Duke glanced over only to see Colton practically grinding against the edge of the counter, his breaths coming out in soft spurts, his lip clamped between his teeth. He felt himself growl slightly - the game taking over his usually soft and warm nature. With one hand, he gripped Colton, jerked him off the counter. Colton moaned pitifully from the lack of pressure, crossing his legs at the ankle once more, shifting. "Duke...I need..."

"He's fine," Duke announced loudly. "My boyfriend tends to get hot really often. Heatstrokes are pretty common for him."

"Are you sure?" The women said unsurely as she put the books in a bag. "He looks rather...flustered."

Colton whined softly, hand clawing at his crotch, wanting desperately to give it a hard squeeze. "He's fine," Duke said in a gruff voice, wrapping one arm around Colton and squeezing. Hard. Colton stiffened up, legs snapping together, his eyes flying to Duke. Oh, no. No, no, no. He'd made Duke angry. There was no chance of relief anytime soon now. "Duke," Colton said softly. He nudged his cheek with his nose. "Are you mad?"

"Not  _now._ " Duke turned and smiled painfully at the woman. "Thank you," he said, getting the bag.

She was still staring at Colton with wide eyes. "Um...uh, no problem! Have a nice day!"

"You too," Duke said through gritted teeth. The moment he had his book bag in his left hand, he pushed Colton forward, nudging them toward a bench. The moment Colton sat down, he winced, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning. His jeans cut deeply into the tender skin of his bladder, wanting nothing more than to escape. "Mmm..." he closed his eyes, bouncing his legs. "I hafta pee."

"Yeah," Duke said in a tense voice. "You were putting on a rather nice show back there, weren't you?"

Colton's eyes went wide, and heat rose to his cheeks. "I couldn't help it," he mumbled. His legs were still moving around, his body twisting awkwardly at the waist. His bladder felt overly full, like it was containing the entire waters of the world. All he wanted was to rip off his fly, piss like there was no tomorrow, and let all of it gush into a urinal. The thought was too much to bear. His aching bladder pushed harder, and Colton groaned, arching his back. He was flushed and moaning and utterly desperate for release.

Duke just stared at him with a harsh glare. "The woman there could clearly see what was wrong with you."

Colton bit his cheek. "I couldn't help it," he whined. "I need the bathroom so bad."

"Sure you could have." Duke stared at him with a piercing, unsettling gaze. "Remember what we said this morning? Anything's possible."

Colton shrunk at the gaze. His legs bounced more rapidly, one hand sneaking down in lighting speed. A quick, but hard squeeze. Then his hand shot back up again, tugging nervously at the end of his shirt. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, knees rubbing against each other, his whole body jittery and frantic with need. "I just...I really need the bathroom." His cheeks flushed scarlet. "Really bad, Duke."

Duke stared at him silently for a moment. Then, he took out the lemonade from his bag, and pressed it against Colton's groin. "Drink."

The condensation from the lemonade made the crotch of Colton's slightly damp - the feeling itself sent a sharp pang through his bladder, causing Colton to double over, sucking in his tummy. "I can't-" he tried to push away the drink, squirming on the bench. "Duke, I'm going to pee myself if I--" he let out a soft moan, unable to finish his sentence. His bladder throbbed hard.

"Drink," Duke said again without sympathy. "And you'll hold it." He raised an eyebrow. "You have to. It's an order."

"I know, but--" Colton knew it was a fruitless venture. With resignation, he took the lemonade from his lap and into his hand, feeling the slippery wetness from outside the bottle. God, the drink was yellow and in liquid form and it looked exactly like... Colton hissed through his teeth, grinding his bum into the seat, his thighs pressing together.  _Hurry up and get it over with,_ he told himself, uncapping the bottle.

Tossing his head back, he took a long gulp. The moment he swallowed the water, his bladder lurched in protest - a spurt squeezed out - and Colton's eyes widened. His free hand shot down to his crotch, and squeezed hard, his body curling in. "Oohh..." he whimpered, squirming, his hand squeezing desperately through the fabric of his jeans.

"Stop that," Duke commanded.

Colton winced, but ripped his hand away. Right away, his legs snapped together, and he went back to rocking back and forth on the bench in pure desperation. However, Duke still didn't look satisfied - instead, he picked up the lemonade and sloshed it around slightly, as if saying,  _You still have to finish drinking, remember?_ At the sound of the sloshing lemonade, Colton's bladder convulsed, forcing Colton to grind the tops of his thighs together.

He snatched the drink from Duke's hand, tossing it back and downing it as quickly as possible. His bladder quivered inside his stomach, full and round, and still expanding with liquid. When the bottle was done, he practically shoved it in Duke's hand, before thrusting his left hand into his crotch. He squeezed his dick harshly, trying to pinch off the opening, his legs fanning in and out in a rapid motion.

"Please..." his eyes were wide, the blush on his face spreading. "I...really have...to pee..."

Duke hummed at the empty bottle. "Good boy," he said, smirking. He tossed the bottle into the trash near him. "Let's finish shopping now, okay?"

 And Colton could only wonder how he would ever manage to hold it.

X

Two hours later, and Colton was somehow, amazingly, still holding on. It may have been due to the fact that Duke had not shoved another drink down his throat, and instead, they had spent the time actually  _shopping._  Colton was still feverishly desperate - squirming, bobbing, shifting, twisting - but at least he wasn't drinking anymore. The lemonade and the other liquids he'd consumed had settled into his full, taut bladder, but he had gotten accustomed to them.

Sort of.

They were now seated in the car, the trunk full of shopping bags. Duke said he was taking him somewhere. "A surprise" he had claimed. Colton was not looking forward to the surprise.

"I gotta pee," Colton pointed out, legs twisted in a knot. "Can I, like, take a pee now, and then hold it until nine? Because otherwise it's impossible."

Duke clucked his tongue. "You're so negative. You can do anything you set your mind too."

Colton grimaced, reaching his hand down and squeezing. "I'm not invincible."

Duke smirked. "But your bladder is."

 "You're insane," Colton muttered.

Duke flashed him a look. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he squeaked. His bladder throbbed, and he looked away. "Nothing at all."

"It better have been nothing," Duke grumbled. Colton glanced at him, smiling a little. Duke was really good at being dominant for their first time playing the game. His smile fell when he noticed the car had stopped, and sitting in front of them, was a bar.

Colton sat still. "You're kidding me?"

"I thought we could grab ourselves a few drinks to celebrate the day." Duke got out of the car, slamming the door shut. Colton moaned miserably, hitting his head against his knees. He knew that bars were used for one thing and one thing only - drinking. His bladder protested, and he squeezed his legs together. 

Duke tapped on his window, urging him to hurry up.

"Ugh." Carefully, Colton stepped out of the car, shivering when gravity sent a tingle up to his full bladder. He walked up to the bar with his thighs pressed tight together, visibly resisting the urge to shove his hands into his crotch in public. Luckily, it wasn't very busy today, so at least he didn't have to worry about someone bumping into him, and forcing him to lose control. Grabbing onto Duke's arm, he let his boyfriend lead him to the bar.

The bartender greeted them with a smile. 

"I'll have a beer and he'll - " Duke thumbed his hand in the direction of Colton. " - have bourbon."

"Is that all?"

Duke looked thoughtful. "Make that two for him," he said, looking at Colton again.

Colton shot him a pleading look, but Duke just smirked, running hand lightly along Colton's spine. He leaned into the curve of his ear, and whispered, "I'm going to have you so full you won't be able to move." Colton shivered, and tensed at the words, pressing his knees closer together. He squirmed discretely. "I can't drink both of those," he whispered back. Duke just kissed his ear, and then his hairline, ignoring the protesting words.

Five minutes later, and the drinks were prepared.

One hour, and four drinks later, and true to Duke's words, Colton  _couldn't_ move. His bladder was so overfull and taut that it strained against the skin of his stomach, a round, hard bowling ball of piss. Colton could barely breath - each inhale and exhale send tremors up his delicate bladder. His body was tense as a wire, sweat on his cheeks and neck. His thighs were pressed tightly together, and both hands gripped his crotch. He no longer bounced or squirmed - he sat absolutely still, breaths labored, bladder threatening to spill over.

"Thanks for the drinks." Duke tipped the bartender, before sliding his wallet back into his pocket. "C'mon, babe. Let's head back to the car."

"I - I can't-" Cole's eyes were wide, and his words a mere whisper. His bladder pushed, and Colton clenched his muscles, preventing his aching, tender bladder from letting the floodgates open. Duke frowned, and slid an arm around him. "C'mon," he said again, but this time it was an order - not a casual request. Colton winced, and squeezed his eyes shut. He shifted a bit, but froze, as pee spilled from his clenched grip and rolled down his legs.

"I can't," he whimpered. "I can't move, or it'll come out."

Duke gave him a look. "It's only six. You still have to hold it for three hours."

Three hours! Colton would have laughed if his bladder wasn't about to explode. From across the room, the men's door opened and closed, revealing a glimpse of the urinals. Cole let out a shuddering breath, curling into himself. He was trembling from head to toe, his bladder an ocean on the verge of being released. "I can't," he said. Tears burned in the back of his eyes. "I can't hold it."

He was suddenly terrified. The game was fun. He liked the game. But he didn't want to pee himself in public.

He  _couldn't..._ He moved just an inch to get up, but piss streamed past his fingers. He went still again, moaning, and desperately clawing at this crotch. The bartender was now looking at them weirdly, but Duke stepped in front of him, shielding him from view.

"Get up," Duke said.

"I can't." Colton shuddered again.

"I said get up," Duke repeated.

He felt like sobbing, but his embarrassment held his tears back. He suddenly wanted comforting Duke, not cold, demanding Duke. But he couldn't say that. Duke had wanted this game for so long, and he had too - and he couldn't ruin it! Still, he didn't know how to get up. His bladder was ready to give in, and it was all his tightly clenched hands could do to squeeze the urine back.

In a sudden motion, Duke gripped him from the crook of an elbow, and forced him onto his feet.

His bladder sloshed, and piss leaked out, streaking his jeans. He started to shake badly. "I'm sorry, I -"

"Stop that," Duke demanded.

He tried to stop. But another leak shot out. He clenched. Another leak.

Duke began dragging him out the door, quietly telling him he needed to stop peeing. Colton cried softly to himself, feeling wetness growing on his jeans. His bladder was so full, it hurt. Sharp pain shot up his abdomen, and he held even tighter, forcing back the flow. They were in the car, but Colton couldn't remember getting in the car, because everything was a blur. He was squeezing as if his life depended on it.

"You were very bad in there," Duke said admonshingly. "I might have to extend it to four hours since you leaked so much."

His stomach was rounded, and strained with urine. Colton sucked in his breath - but the moment he took another breath, piss leaked out. "I can't, Duke, I'm sorry but-" 

"Hold it," Duke said.

He squeezed, shutting off the flow. But his abdomen sent sharp pangs of pain, and he shuddered, suddenly wanting the game to end. "It hurts," he said. "It hurts. Can we stop?"

"Three hours," Duke told him firmly.

He started to sob. "I can't - " Pee gushed from between his fingers, soaked his pants. He tried to hold it back, but terrible pain hit his bladder, and he was forced to release more. He was vibrating so hard he felt like a cell phone on vibrate getting a hundred spam text messages at a time. Duke reached for his shoulder, but he flinched, moving away. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I just - I couldn't -" He snuck a peek at his boyfriend.

"What a shame," Duke said. "You weren't supposed to pee yourself. Now I might have to punish you."

"Duke... I said  _stop,_ " Colton said hoarsely as he emptied himself all over the car seat.

"I told you to stop peeing too," Duke told him. "But did you listen?"

He was a sobbing, peeing mess. He wished he was anywhere else in the world but here. When he was finally done peeing, Duke said:

"Are you happy with yourself, now?"

Colton lost it. "I told you I don't want to play the game anymore!" He practically shouted, tears streaming down his face. "My stomach hurts, and I-"

Duke opened his mouth, but then shut it. Realization crossed his face, and in another moment, he was gathering Colton in his arms, hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry." He pressed kisses against his forehead, holding him close. Colton shook hard. "I didn't realize..." Duke said guiltily. "I thought... I thought you were just playing the game when you said to stop. I would have never..."

"It hurt," Colton whimpered. "I told you to stop."

"I know... I ... you never used the safe-word, so I thought-"

"What safe word?" Colton said weakly. He was so exhausted.

"The safe word. I told you to say it if you weren't playing the game anymore." He didn't sound mad though - just incredibly guilty. Colton sat bundled in Duke's arms, trying to control his trembling. He leaned his against Duke's chest. "I don't remember any safe word."

Duke frowned. "Remember when we were discussing the rules about this stuff?"

"Yeah..."

"We discussed the safe word. You even nodded."

Colton stared at him. "You said about a hundred rules before we started the game. I got bored halfway through, and just started nodding to whatever you said."

Duke blinked. "What?"

Colton shrugged meekly. He felt incredibly stupid now. "Sorry?"

Duke smiled, wrapping an arm around him. He started the engine of the car. "Still not your fault," he said softly. "I should have realized you were being serious." He kissed him softly. "I'm not... I guess I'm not good at this." He looked away from Colton, frowning.

Colton sat up. "No, you are good! You were good. I just... I guess... you overestimated my abilities," he said sheepishly.

Duke tried to smile, but he still felt too guilty. He couldn't believe he'd messed up so bad. Colton could have a permanent bladder injury or something! He couldn't even look at his boyfriend. There was no way he was ever being in control of him again. 

Colton sighed, practically reading Duke's thoughts. He rested his cheek on his shoulder. "Don't feel bad. I'm okay now."

Duke didn't say anything, but he let the touch of his boyfriend comfort him, as he drove out of the bar.

"Where do you want to go?" Duke asked softly, kissing his hair.

"Tacos?" Colton asked.

Duke smiled. "Got it."

As they drove down the highway, Colton relaxed into the seat. His wet jeans clung to his thighs, but he was happy. He had thought Duke had actually ignored his requests in favor of his kink. He was glad that Duke just hadn't realized they weren't still playing the game. He glanced over at his boyfriend, who looked to be deep in thought, probably still feeling guilty. He reached his hand over and rested it on Duke's one hand on the steering wheel.

"So, what  _was_ the safe-word?"

Duke glanced at him. "Beans."

"Beans? Seriously?" Colton snorted. "No wonder I stopped paying attention."

He shrugged. "You like tacos, so I thought, you know..."

"Beans, though."

"Shut up."

He saw the outline of a smile on Duke's face as they pulled into the drive thru.

"What will you have?" The drive thru person asked.

"Three soft tacos," Duke said.

"No beef for one of them, though," Colton piped up. He glanced at Duke, and snickered. "Only  _beans._ "

Duke glared at him affectionately, but Colton started laughing, and then he started to laugh as well.

And in that moment, Colton decided that even though he might have a bladder infection for the rest of his life, it was _nothing_  compared to the love he would feel for Duke for forever and eternity. He stretched his legs out, and rested his head against Duke's chest. His stomach gave a sharp pang, but life was good.

"You know what they say," Colton said. "When life gives you beans, make tacos."

Duke groaned. But he was smiling as they left the drive thru and rode onto the empty stretch of highway in front of them, content that they would be okay.

 


	5. Let it Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benjamin needs to pee, but his older brother won't pull over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry... this one's really short, and I literally wrote it up during my lunch, but I hope someone finds enjoyment from it. Also, I know I usually do M/M, but occasionally I might do something about two brothers, since I find it cute.

_“Let it go, let it go, can’t hold it back anymore…”_

The lyrics to the Frozen song blared from the radio, Idina Menzel’s voice filling the car. Benjamin groaned, wondering why  _that_ particular song had to be playing. He was sitting beside his older brother in the passenger seat, taut as a wire. Empty coffee cups littered the car floor.

“Let it go, let it go,” his brother Vincent sang off-beat. “Turn away and sla-a-am the door.”

Benjamin winced at his awful singing, but even more at the words being spoken. Oh, how he wanted to  _let it go._ Shifting in the passenger seat, he tugged the seat belt away from his full bladder. He had needed to take a leak for the past two hours, but his brother had teasingly sped by all the exits. He wasn’t sure why Vincent’s goal in life was to torture him, but he figured it had something to do with him breaking his video game console a couple of weeks ago.

“Vince.” Benjamin grit his teeth. “I need to piss.”

Vincent turned up the volume of the radio, ignoring him. Benjamin glared at his brother, but his brother did not look fazed. It was very hard to intimidate Vincent. After all, his brother was 6 foot 2 inches of lean, solid muscle. Dark hair curled around his ears, and sunglasses hid cool gray eyes. Most girls were attracted to him instantly, and most guys either feared or respected him.

Benjamin bet Vincent never had to pee so bad his bladder was sloshing in his stomach. “I need to pee,” Ben complained loudly. “Pull over.”

“What was that?” Vincent asked nonchalantly. “Did you say something?”

Pressing his knees together, Benjamin scowled. “How long are you going to keep this up? I’ll piss all over your car seats.”

“And then I’ll kill you, and throw you onto the middle of the road,” Vincent replied sweetly, eyes not budging from the road in front of them. Benjamin bit back a moan of frustration, instead bending at the waist. He pressed his sweatpant-clad thighs tightly together. He was sorely regretting agreeing to come live with his brother in Toronto. Vincent was finally in university, and had needed to move into his own apartment to attend the university of his choice. It was a couple of cities away from where they lived, and their single mother had urged them to stay together.

He knew she just wanted a break from handling two kids on top of her career, but didn’t his mother know his brother was the devil in handsome disguise?

“Vince… please….” Benjamin hit his head against his knees. His bladder pulsed, and he squirmed a little in his seat. “I’m dying here.”

Vincent hummed. “Shouldn’t have drank so much coffee then.”

“You’re a dick.”

“My pleasure,” Vincent said. He swerved sharply on the road.

Benjamin groaned, hand reaching down to give himself a quick, urgent squeeze. “Dude!”

“Sorry,” Vincent said, grinning in a way that seemed very not-sorry.

Asshole. Benjamin whimpered quietly to himself, watching the cars and trees blur by him. He had chugged down quite a few coffees on the way, trying to wake up his fuzzy, sleep-ridden brain. Now the coffee cups were all empty, but his bladder was very, very full.  _Too_ full. Benjamin moaned softly, crossing his legs tightly. He was sitting on the edge of the passenger seat, body bent over.

How long was Vincent going to make him suffer?

“This is what you get for breaking my video game console.”

Ah. So it was the console.

Benjamin bit his lower lip. “But you know that was an accident!”

“An accident. Sure.” Vincent chuckled. “Like the accident you’re going to have now?”

Benjamin gave him a dark look, but it was undermined by his twisting hips and scissoring legs. He didn’t think he’d ever had to pee so bad in his entire life, and if Vincent didn’t pull over soon, he was staring to worry that he would  _actually_ pee himself. As they went over another bump on the road, Benjamin’s bladder sloshed, and he reached down to give himself another, hard squeeze.

“Please,” he groaned.

Vincent eyed him wearily. “You’re not actually going to piss in the car, are you?”

“You’re a… a… ” Benjamin wriggled, pushing his hand deeper into the crotch of his sweatpants. “An insensitive asshole.”

“You’re  _not_  ruining my baby.” Vincent ignored the asshole comment.

“Then let me pee!” Benjamin said desperately.

For a moment, Vincent looked at him, and Benjamin thought for sure he was going to signal to exit. But then he smirked, turned up the radio, and sped right ahead. “No can do, little brother,” Vincent said cheekily. “You’ve got to pay me back for destroying my beloved.”

“It was just a play station.” Benjamin squirmed miserably, his face flushed hot with need.

“Just a play station?” Vincent scoffed. “I used up all of my savings in grade ten to buy that thing.”

“That was three years ago,” Benjamin said.

“Three years, and it was still working. Until  _you_ touched it.”

Benjamin let out another admittedly-pathetic whimper. He ground his crotch into the car seat. He had never had to pee so bad in his life, and his aching bladder was pushing and prodding to let the flood out. “Vincent, please, please… fuck…” His legs tangled together.

Vincent sighed. “Fine… I’ll pull over.”

“Really?” Benjamin jerked his head up, eyes wide but with relief.

“Yeah, I will.” Vincent grinned, a sinister look in his eyes. Benjamin chewed on his lower lip, in the process of deciphering what that look meant, when the car slammed on the breaks. Benjamin jerked forward, and his seat belt pressed into his abdomen. A spurt of piss rolled down his legs, and Benjamin clamped them together, stopping the flood quickly.

“Traffic,” Vincent said pleasantly.

“Oh my god.”

“Sorry.” Vincent stretched his legs out. “Going to have to wait.”

“You knew! You knew there was going to be traffic.”

Vincent shrugged innocently. “I knew of no such thing.”

Benjamin’s bladder stretched over the skin of his stomach, straining with liquids. He was done complying with his brother. He stood up, pressing his thighs tight together, as he walked (sort of waddled, but no one needed to know that) to the back seats of the car.

“Where you going?” Vincent frowned.

“I don’t want to look at your face,” Benjamin said, but the sassy remark came out more as a half-groan than anything. He threw himself into the back seat. Out of view from his older brother, he was now free to act as desperately as he wished. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed both hands deep into his crotch, holding himself tightly. He bounced for a moment, trying to see how far the traffic went.

He saw an endless row of cars, and with one more desperate push from his bladder, Benjamin knew he couldn’t hold it.

“I’m going to piss,” he announced.

“Don’t you dare,” he heard Vincent growl. “This is a new car!”

“I don’t care,” Benjamin shot back, sweating from his desperation. He wasn’t actually going to pee in the car, but might as well get his brother worried. He grabbed an empty water bottle that had rolled under the car seat, and uncapped the lid. One hand still shoved in his crotch, he began undoing his sweatpants knot as fast as his trembling hands would let him.

“You’re not peeing in my car,” Vincent said, but his voice sounded panicked. “I’ll pull over, okay?”

“Too late,” Benjamin said. He got himself out, and aimed into the bottle.

“Ben-”

Before Vincent could finish his sentence, pee clattered into the bottle, filling the car with the sound of Benjamin pissing. Benjamin smirked when he heard Vincent panic for a moment, before realizing he was peeing into a bottle, not the car. But most of his body just relaxed in relief, the tense knots in his back unwinding. When he was done, the bottle was full of golden liquid, but Benjamin felt much more relieved.

He still needed to pee, but it was manageable.

He slid back into the passenger seat, smirking.

“You’re an idiot,” Vincent said.

“Not my fault.” Sunlight warmed his face. “You wouldn’t let me go.” He held out the bottle, and smirked. “Want some lemonade?”

Vincent pushed the bottle away. “You’re disgusting,” he said. But then he reached for Benjamin’s head and gave his hair a ruffle, and Benjamin leaned into the touch.

They were even.

At least for now.


	6. A Stuck-y Situation

_Oh, shit._

Reece couldn't hold it anymore. He banged furiously on the occupied bathroom door, pleading, "Please, please! Hurry up! I'm about to wee myself here!" His legs twisted together like a pretzel, and he rested one hand protectively on his swollen, protruding bladder. His right hand was shoved in his crotch, squeezing so hard his pants crinkled. He was on the brink of pissing himself - on the brink of all of his pee darting out and soaking his trousers.

The bathroom door stayed occupied. Reece bit his pink lip, bobbing desperately on the spot. His legs trembled, from his thighs to his calves, and the waistline of his pants cut deep into the tender skin of his overfull bladder. He had been waiting for hours to have a piss. Nearly - what, since the morning? And after all those coffees and water bottles, and that stupid extra large slushy...

"Please," Reece whispered, the horrifying realization that he could very well piss himself in public washing over him. At the thought, he squeezed his crotch tighter, whimpering and curling into himself. He knew he looked like a mess to the outside world. Everyone at Tim Horton's was basically staring at him with wide eyes. Some looked concerned, some looked interested, some looked annoyed. But nearly everyone was watching the poor kid who'd had too much to drink and was now officially on the verge of making a puddle on the floor.

"Oh, god." Reece leaned his head against the wall. Perspiration gleamed over his flushed face, his dark hair sticking damply to his forehead. His hand squeezed, and his thighs were crossed atop one another, crushing his dick between them. The gallons of liquid he had drunk pulsed softly beneath his abdomen, straining to hold onto the abundance of substance. Reece moaned softly, bouncing on his toes.

_I can't hold it anymore._

His bladder screamed at him, stretching and expanding and contracting from the pressure. Reece let out a louder moan, bending double, his other hand joining him at the crotch. He squeezed rhythmically, bouncing on his heels, knocking halfheartedly at the door. "Please..." he let out a little whimper, and tears leaked from his eyes. "I can't..." A jet of golden liquid spurted out into his boxers. He pressed his thighs tighter together, to no avail, as another longer hiss streamed out. It was inevitable.

He couldn't hold it anymore.

The bathroom door swung open as an attractive boy around his age strolled out. Relief! It took a moment for the thought to process into his exhausted mind, but Reece jumped at the break. Relief! Finally, relief! He scrambled into the bathroom, still letting out frequent spurts into his cotton boxers.

He quickly positioned himself over the urinal, reaching for his zipper, still squeezing frantically with his free hand.  _Finally, he could piss and_... he tugged hard at his zipper. Tugged harder. What? Why had it... Reece's face paled at the sudden dawn of information. His zipper was stuck. At the thought of holding back his golden liquid for a even a second longer, Reece let out a loud moan, both hands reaching down to squeeze himself hard. His pretty legs were pressed tight together, his face pink from panic, his big, sweet eyes darting around frantically for some sort of help.

 _Oh, god, please..._ A trickle of pee slid down his thighs, warming his skin.  _Shit, hold it..._

As he tried to think of a solution, the attractive boy who had been hogging the bathroom suddenly walked in. Then paused. Stared, mouth gaping. Reece stared back at him, frozen for a moment - he hadn't even realized that in his rush, he'd left the bathroom door wide open. "I - um - "

"I left my wallet in here," the boy said. "I can, uh just get it quick-"

"My zipper!" Reece blurted.

"Your what?"

"My zipper." Reece squeezed at his crotch. Another spurt sped out, soaking his boxers. "Please, it's stuck and-" Reece let out something akin to a sob. "I'm practically peeing myself."

For a long moment, the boy just stared, looking quite clueless at what to do. Reece groaned, curling into himself, but it was so  _pointless_ and his trousers were already half-soaked and his bladder was  _so achingly full._ Reece could sense he was on the brink of giving up, and just as his body started to relax, the attractive boy suddenly started taking action. He knelt down awkwardly in front of Reece, and tugged at his zipper, trying to get it undone.

Reece made a noise of frustration. Pressed his thighs tighter together. Squeezed a little harder, crumpling the fabric of his pants with his hand. "Hurry!" he moaned out.

"I'm trying," the boy grumbled. For a moment, there was just some tugging and loud cries of, "Hurry up!" and quiet, disjointed hissing sounds, before his zipper broke free. In frantic desperation and need, Reece whipped himself out, and stumbled back a little as pee gushed out full force, hitting and splattering against the urinal. His whole body trembled, his face bearing a bright red color. His achingly full bladder emptied rapidly, gushing out like a full-force vase.

When he was done, his eyes fluttered close, his head resting tiredly against the wall. When he finally managed to open them, the attractive boy was just staring at him, looking awkward and out of place.

Reece smiled softly. "Thank you."

The boy swallowed. Looked away, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Uh - um, no problem."

There was a moment of silence.

The boy crept his eyes back to Reece, just as Reece's shyly met his. Immediately, they both looked away again.

"Uh, I'll just get my wallet," the boy said quickly, brushing past Reece and grabbing it from where it had fallen on the ground. He swallowed again, making eye contact with Reece once more, before rushing out of the bathroom. Reece let out a little content sigh, finally lifting himself up to go to the sink of to wash his hands. Finally, his bladder was emptied, and he could relax again.

He looked at dismay at his pants for a moment. He hadn't pissed himself, but there were streaks of glistening wetness down his left leg. It was obvious he had leaked quite heavily.

"Oh, well," he murmured to himself, as he dried his hands. "You got a cute boy to help you not piss yourself....what more could you want..."

Just as he was about to leave, however, he noticed that the boy had dropped a card from his wallet. Reece picked it up, scanned it, and a smile wide bloomed on his face.

It was a business card.

With a phone number.

Sawyer Montgomery.

Reece left the bathroom with his bladder feeling light, and his heart feeling even  _lighter._


	7. Robbery Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace really has to pee, but Levi, his superior, think it's unprofessional.
> 
> [Oh, yeah, and they're thieves trying to perform a robbery. So it's kind of a problem.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! What is this miracle?!?! 
> 
> lol, I hope you guys enjoy, I have a REALLY exciting idea for the next one... but it probably won't get written right away because school is a bitch.

Jace tugged nervously at the end of his white servant outfit, his legs crossed tightly together. He was standing in the middle of a royal party held by the King and Queen of his country – which, of course, was cause enough for nerves – but he also needed to pee.  _Really badly._ He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone – had he went that morning? Or had his last pee been the night before?

“Oh, god…” Jace shifted his weight. He stared tortuously – achingly – at the men’s bathroom a few couple meters diagonal from him. There was steady stream of men coming entering and leaving, swishing in and out as they pleased. Jace wanted badly to join them, but he’d been ordered to keep an eye on the Queen.

His eyes drove back to where they were supposed to be. The Queen of his country sipped delicately on punch, her posture poised and perfect. On her hand was a simple, enchanting ring that was worth around a million dollars.

A million-dollar ring that him and his partner were supposed to steal.

“C’mon…” Jace whimpered, rubbing his legs together. “What’s taking him so long…”

As if on cue, his partner in crime materialized in front of him, wearing a similar servants’ outfit. He had a devilish glint in his eye, blond hair slick, smile stony and smart. “I tampered with the video tapes,” Levi said. “I also detached the alarms.” He whispered this into Jace’s ear, “We’ll wait until tonight to get the ring, when the Queen puts it away for bed.”

Jace nodded briefly, the anxiety of his first thievery swelling in his mind. At the same time, his bladder sloshed against his stomach, and he pressed his thighs tighter together. He really wanted to ask Levi for a piss break, but how _amateur_ would that look? It was his first mission, and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his superior.

“There’s still a few hours until the Queen heads off to bed,” Jace said. “Do we just wait it out until then?”

Levi shot him an unbelievable look. “Of course not. We’ve got to get ourselves into some security outfits, and watch the video cameras. We need to see where she puts it.”

Jace squirmed miserably. “Right now?”

“Obviously.” Levi frowned. “Do you want to do this or not?”

 _After I pee, I swear I’ll be focused!_ Jace couldn’t – no matter how badly he needed to – voice his plea. Instead, he straightened up with a pained noise, and nodded, trying to smile. Levi shot him a concerned once-over, and then started walking down the ball room. With a resigned sigh, Jace followed, trying to keep himself looking inconspicuous, which wasn’t exactly easy when he was carrying a full bladder in tow.

Meanwhile, Levi was pissed. His subordinate was acting like a total brat. Didn’t Jace know how important this mission was? They were supposed to blend in with the crowd, but instead, Jace kept shifting around, his face flushed pink.

Levi rolled his eyes. He hated when he was thrust into missions with newbies.

When they reached the janitor room, Levi tore it open, and shoved Jace inside. They stumbled in the dark for a bit before Levi found the light switch. When the room was visible, Levi noticed that Jace was visibly tense, tremors running over his body.

Levi’s expression softened slightly. “You alright?”

“F-fine…” Jace eyed the mop dripping into the bucket miserably.

“I need you focused,” Levi said. “Are you with me?”

Jace swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the mop bucket and toward Levi. There was a hesitant pause, and Jace squirmed, legs rubbing against each other. “I’m with you,” he said, voice barely audible.

Levi arched a brow.

What was wrong with Jace? The kid looked like he had ants in his pants. _Literally._

He’d never seen someone with such a bad case of the first-mission jitters.

“Change into this.” Levi tossed him dark navy security clothes. “We’re going to dress up as security guards.”

Jace held the clothes limply in his hand. “But… there’s no… uh… are we taking turns using the janitors closet?”

Levi slowly turned to look at him. “What are we, twelve? We’re both men. I’m not interested in your dick.”

Jace blushed bright red. “Sorry. I just – never mind, I’m stupid.”

“Looks like it,” Levi muttered.

There was short silence and the rustling of clothes. Levi stripped down his servants outfit and tossed on the security uniform. Squaring his shoulders, he looked back to see Jace still putting on the shirt, head covered as he pulled the neckline over his head. There was something very peculiar about his stance, however – as he struggled to tug the shirt down, Levi noticed that his bottom half was twisted unusually – his legs were pressed tightly together, and every few seconds, they rubbed against each other.

Like…

Like he needed to pee.

Levi groaned. Just what he needed.

“Sorry,” Jace said, when he finally had the shirt on. His hair was a befuddled mess.

Levi shrugged. “Come on. Let’s go to the security room.”

Jace’s eyes flew back to the mop bucket, but he bit his lip, and didn’t voice his need. Levi shrugged – he was sent here to steal a ring, not to babysit. If Jace needed to pee badly enough, he would speak up. If he didn’t speak up, Levi wasn’t going to bother.

Leading the way, the two of slipped past the party and into the security room. The lone security guard had his head flopped down on the table, poison oozing from his mouth. Levi smirked at his quick-handiwork, and Jace shot him a wide-eyed look of distress. Levi wasn’t sure if Jace was against killing, or if he was still struggling to contain his bladder.

Ah, well.

Either way, Levi was the boss here. He would handle the situation however he damn well pleased.

Running a hand through his spiffy blond hair, Levi slid into one of the swivel chairs. This was the boring part: they had to sit here for hours, just watching the security screen to see where the Queen put her ring when she slept. He zoomed in on the Queen, who was talking politely with the rest of the guests.

His eyes gleamed maliciously. That ring was his.

Beside him, Jace sat down tentatively, thighs secretively pressed together. It was dead quiet aside from the _rustle rustle rustle_ of his pants rubbing together. His chair squeaked awkwardly every few moments as he sat up abruptly, or lurched forward. Levi kept half an eye on his partner, annoyed, but strangely interested too.

“Stop moving around so much,” Levi said gruffly.

“Sorry,” Jace spoke in a half-moan, hand resting on top of his lower abdomen. “It’s just…” He trailed off, and flushed. “Nothing.”

Levi was amused. “Well, I need you to be focused. Keep your eyes on the security video.”

“G-got it.”

Another fifteen minutes crept by, but at this point, Jace was in distress: his bladder was aching, and he didn’t know how much longer he could wait. It felt full with urine, and if Jace poked at his lower stomach, there was a tight bump there. His shoulders were bound tensely with nerves, and he bounced his knees feverishly.

His eyes slid to Levi, who was staring at the videos, his chin resting on his hand. Could he… could he ask?

Jace let out a pathetic, barely-concealed whimper.

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t ask! This was his first mission, and he couldn’t-

“So why’d you join the organization?” Levi asked him.

His voice was startling and cut sharply through the silence. Jace mewled softly, biting his lower lip between his teeth. He bent forward, and rested one hand on his knee, the waistband of the pants cutting into his bowling-ball-full bladder. Oh, god. He fucking had to piss _so bad_. Still, he forced himself to answer the question.

“I’ve just – I’ve always wanted to steal things,” Jace said, rubbing his knees together.

“Seriously?” Levi lifted a brow. “No sob story?”

“Well, technically… my parents kicking me out of the house was an incentive.” Jace’s thighs were pressed as hard as humanly possible, and his clasped hands lingered in front of his crotch, wanting nothing more than to squeeze hard. He willed himself to resist the urge, but his whole body trembled hard. “But I’ve always liked the art of stealing. It doesn’t hurt people – “ His eyes flitted to the poisoned cop. “But it’s… it makes me feel alive.”

Levi snorted, and Jace immediately felt embarrassed. He wished he could take his words back.

But then Levi said: “Yeah, there’s the rush of thrill. It’s pretty much why I do it.” His eyes found their way lazily back to Jace’s shivering form. “Why’d your parents kick you out?”

This was not a story Jace wanted to tell, especially when he had worked himself up into such a state. He crossed his legs, tapping his fingers on his thighs, before he mumbled out a brief, but honest response:

“Cause I’m gay.”

Levi stared at him for a second. Jace hoped he wasn’t homophobic or something.

Instead, Levi said: “You have to piss, don’t you?”

Jace went crimson, but despite his embarrassment, just hearing the soft hissed words: _“Piss”_ out loud made Jace moan, and hunch over, his thighs snapping together. He squirmed in the chair, attempting but failing to not make a show.

“Look,” Levi said, lowering his voice. “You might be new, but it’s hard to get any missions if you can’t handle basic bodily functions. We’re thieves. Thieves don’t need to pee during important thefts, and if they do, they certainly… keep themselves composed.”

Jace felt ashamed from the scolding, and forced his body to still once more. However, he didn’t think he could stay still for long: his bladder was full and rounded, and straining with liquids. Liquids that needed out. And soon. He rubbed a clammy hand against his thigh, wiping his sweaty brow. The room was silent, but after a minute, Jace briefly dropped his hand down and gave himself a quick, split second squeeze.

His face flushed, but Levi hadn’t noticed because it was pretty dark in the room, and it was easy to do without making a noise. Hesitantly, he dropped his hand back down, and squeezed harder, and for a longer time. His body shuddered, but he bit his lip hard to contain whatever noises he wanted to make.

_Be composed. Composed. Composed._

He was pretty sure gripping your pants like a toddler was far from composed, but if Levi was none the wiser, than Jace was going to settle for it.

Levi’s eyes flitted toward him randomly – fast – and Jace braced himself for a verbal beating. However, Levi still didn’t notice the squeezing, and Jace thanked the gods that it was dark in here. He kept his hand firmly jammed against the fabric of his pants, unwilling to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Levi said with a short pause. “I didn’t say what I said earlier to make you feel bad. It’s not fair, but… it’s what’s expected. I don’t want you to be disappointed if you really are interested in climbing the ranks.”

Jace squeezed his eyes shut. His bladder throbbed. He couldn’t stop shaking. “I – I know.”

“Just hold it,” Levi offered. His tone wasn’t rude though. “It can’t be that bad.”

_You have no idea._

It was as bad as it could possibly get. His flat stomach muscles quivered in response to his curved bladder, and he twitched erratically with the need to release. Jace tried to keep his attention on the security videos, but his temple was so sweaty, and he felt dizzy with desperation. Barely stopping himself from stomping his feet on the ground in frustration, Jace allowed his other hand to join, and both clutched at the pants with fervor.

Jace wanted to cry.

But he would be silent.

He wouldn’t make a noise.

He would be _composed._

Jace screwed his eyes closed, clamping down hard, a lump in his throat. Oh, god. Fuck his life. His legs vibrated, quivering unceremoniously with every pulse and pang of his bladder. It was so full with liquids, but there was nowhere for it to go out and… Jace felt a leak about to spring, and just barely held it back, pale. This time, he was unable to stop himself from gasping.

He could feel Levi’s eyes hot on his trembling posture. “Are you… are you holding yourself?” he said in disbelief.

Shame welled up inside him, and he ripped his hand away. However, without his hand, he needed to move around – he shifted on the chair, rocking back and forth, legs glued together. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice barely audible. “I just have to pee.” Saying that word was impossibly torturous – he whimpered, and his hand stuck back down.

Levi’s brow creased. Resignation settled on his face. “Fine. If you’re really desperate, we’ll go.”

“R-relief?” Jace said in a weak voice.

“Yes,” Levi sighed dramatically. He stood up, but stopped short, going tense. “Wait!” he said, holding out his hand. He stared intently at the security video. “The Queen, she’s heading up to her bedroom!”

“Relief?” Jace whimpered again.

“Not now,” Levi hushed.

_Not now._

Jace tried to console his bladder, but it was angry and didn’t want to listen. Jace brushed his navel tenderly, and winced as pain shot up him. His eyes darted frantically to Levi, but Levi was focused on the video screen, and Jace knew he couldn’t ruin this. He couldn’t ruin the mission. He would just have to hold his pee.

He could do that. He could hold his pee.

He was nineteen.

“C’mon,” Levi said, smugly. “She put it in her shoe closet. How inconspicuous.”

Despite his bladder, Jace tried to concentrate. “D-doesn’t her closet have alarms?”

Levi shot him an irritated look. “I _told_ you, I dismantled all the alarms. Where’s your head?”

_It’s full of pee. I need to pee. Everything is pee._

Jace fumbled, hand dropping back down and clenching. Levi’s eyes lingered on his clenching hand, before going hard again. “Look, I’m sorry _,_ but this is exactly why you need to be in control. You never know when we need to be in action.” Merciless, Levi started stalking forward. Jace was helpless to follow, even though standing sent tremors through his bladder.

It was so difficult to keep up with Levi’s quick, clipped steps. His bladder sloshed in his stomach, and he rubbed it tenderly. They passed a men’s room, and Jace groaned, clasping his hands in front of his crotch but refusing to squeeze. They were in public domain, and even though Levi was taking them down a path with no people around, he couldn’t risk putting attention on himself.

They’d already planned out their route beforehand, but Jace’s mind was a jumbled mess, and he was glad Levi was there was to lead.

When they reached the Queen’s bedroom, Jace found that the guards were already lying on the ground, poison dripping from their mouths. Levi had planned everything thoroughly for the ambush, and Jace felt useless. “You stand and be the lookout,” Levi said, voice low. “Don’t attract attention. I’ll be out as quick as I can.”

Jace nodded, but the moment Levi left the room, he couldn’t help himself. He slid against the wall and shuddered, both his hands shooting to his crotch. He curled into his crotch, shaking, needing to pee but being unable to release it. He rocked desperately, tears leaking from his eyes, his bladder full to the brim,

“Please hurry up, Levi,” he whispered, pressing himself pitifully up against his squeezing hand. He tried to console himself: _Once Levi is done, I can pee. He’ll let me use the bathroom, and I can release all of this into the toilet. Ohh, I really need a toilet…_ “ His wee was on the brink of exploding, and he dug his fingers into his crotch.

He was sweating profusely.

_Just a little while longer._

Then alarms were ringing. Loud, ear-numbing, wailing alarms. Jace jerked, and Levi stumbled out of the room, grabbing his arm harshly. “Shit, shit, shit,” he was cursing.

“I – I thought you dismantled-“

“I did! But there must have been another one I missed! Shit! C’mon, we’ve got to go!” Levi tried to pull him, but Jace halted in his steps, heels digging into the ground.

“No, Levi,” he shook his head furiously. “I need – I need –“ His hand clenched rhythmically. “I need _now,”_ he pleaded.

Levi couldn’t believe his ears. Was Jace seriously standing there, telling him that he was going to go pee first? For God’s sake, was he a child?! Levi saw security guards bounding up the stairs, and instinct gave him the strength to pull Jace down the corridor. They’d planned a tentative escape route in case something went wrong, and Levi dragged Jace toward one of the many back entrances of the castle.

Jace’s eyes were blown wide, his free hand gripping his crotch. “Please,” he said, his eyes glistening. “I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Shut up!” Levi snapped, heart thrumming against his chest wildly. The security was still hot on his tail, and Levi heard the wail of police sirens. This was getting out of hand – fast. Finding his motorcycle, Levi hopped on, strapping on his helmet hastily. Jace stood in front of the motorcycle, legs pressed together in an awkward gait, staring at him with pleading eyes.

“Get on,” Levi said sharply.

The security guards got closer, and Jace finally took action, forcing himself onto the motorcycle. His hands went around Levi’s waist, and Levi sped out of there. His heart was still whirling in his chest as they sped down the dark roads, dim lights of cars flashing around them. He sped way over the speed limit, aware of the cop cars behind him.

He swerved and zipped and took various exits.

He kept looking back, but after a certain point, he saw the cop cars seemed to have lost them for the time being. Still, he knew that they had to keep going until they had lost them 100% sure. They couldn’t risk the cars tailing them back to their organization, so Levi opted for his apartment instead. Finally calmer, Levi was suddenly aware of Jace:

The poor boy had his body pressed flush against Levi, his crotch pressing into Levi’s back desperately. Moans spewed out of Jace’s mouth nonstop, and his hands dug into torso painfully. Hell, Jace was practically grinding against him… and, Levi, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, was finding it hot.

It was clear Jace was struggling, because this situation made him unable to close his thighs, and he was forced to have his legs spread apart.

Levi groaned to himself as Jace pressed himself up against him, trying to put pressure on his crotch so he didn’t release his pee.

Oh, god.

Levi was _not_ getting turned on by this.

He was _not._

“Levi,” Jace begged. “Please, I can’t-“

Jace’s crotch was damp against Levi’s back, and Levi felt the back of his lower shirt get wet. Jace was releasing hisses of disjointed pee, and it was soaking his pants, in turn soaking Levi’s lower back. Jace whined miserably.

Levi glanced back. The cops really did seem long _gone,_ but could he risk pulling over into the forest and letting Jace piss?

He contemplated this, but then Jace let out an exhausted:

“I _can’t_. _”_

Pee started spilling forward rapidly, soaking the motorcycle seat. “Wait,” Levi flailed. “Stop, stop! I’ll pull over!”

Jace groaned, but clenched the flow with effort. Levi slowed to a stop, and could feel how hard Jace was trembling against him, every muscle in his body trying to prevent a full-wetting. He suddenly felt bad for how carelessly he had treated Jace’s need to pee, but he also knew he couldn’t have waited for Jace to use the bathroom when the alarm had been triggered.

“C’mon,” Levi said. “You can go now.”

Jace stumbled off, keeling over, pee still trickling down his pants. “I can go?” he sobbed.

Levi felt kind of like an ass. He nodded briefly. “Yeah… yeah, go.”

Not needing another confirmation, Jace stumbled, and whipped himself out, aiming clumsily for a bush. Pee splattered hard against the dirt and rocks, and Jace moaned in a rather sinfully arousing way. Levi felt his face heat up.

Damn it.

Jace was still shaking, posture tense, but relief clear on his face. The pee continued hissing out, and Levi watched as the spread of wetness expanded and expanded and… shit. Jace wasn’t kidding when he said he had to pee. When he was finally done, his shoulders slumped over, and an embarrassed blush spread over his face.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. His pants were half-soaked.

“Don’t – “Levi rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, you were out of composure, but I fucked up the most tonight.”

Jace’s eyes widened.

“We didn’t – I missed one of the alarms,” Levi said. “So it’s okay. This one time.”

“You did,” Jace admitted, but flushed when Levi shot him an incredulous look. “But… at least you didn’t pee on someone like a four-year old.”

Levi realized he was gesturing toward Levi’s backside, which was slightly soaked from Jace. It was kind of gross, but at the same time hot, and… well, fuck it all.

“C’mon,” Levi said tiredly. “Let’s go to my apartment. You can crash there for the night.”

Jace stared at him wide-eyed. “You’re not leaving me stranded here?”

“What?” Levi asked, exhaustion seeping into his tone. It had been a long day.

“I thought you would abandon me,” Jace admitted. “After my pathetic performance.”

Levi felt even more like an ass. “Look,” he said sternly. “I’m not cruel. Obviously I’m not going to do that. You’re my partner.” He swallowed roughly. “I know I was kind of hard on you, but I get caught up in missions sometimes.”

Jace shifted silently.

“But outside of missions, I’m not an asshole,” Levi promised. He held out his hand. “Now will you get on the motorcycle?”

Jace stared at him, lip bit between his teeth. Then he nodded, and grabbed Levi’s hand.

Relieved, the two of them got on the motorcycle.

As they drove down the road, Jace still damp against Levi, Levi figured… the mission hadn’t been completely without perks. They hadn’t got the ring, but on the bright side… Levi now had a new kink?

Levi groaned again. He really never was going to get over this one.

 

 

 

 


End file.
